A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

Savoury smelling, delicious to his little empty stomach were the
daintily cooked meats which the Emperor and his court ate from off
their silver platters. Only one plateful of food such as this must, of a
surety, make his dear mother strong and well once more. Not for a
moment did Roland hesitate. Even as a tiny sparrow darts into a lion's
cage and picks up a scrap almost out of the monarch's hungry jaws, so
acted Roland. A plateful of food stood beside the King. At this Roland
sprang, seized it with both hands, and joyfully ran off with his prey.
When the serving men would have caught him, Charlemagne, laughing,
bade them desist.
"A hungry one this," he said, "and very bold."
So the meal went on, and when Roland had fed his mother with some
pieces of the rich food and had seen her gradually revive, yet another
thought came to his baby mind.
"My father gave her wine," he thought. "They were drinking wine in
that great hall. It will make her white cheeks red again."
Thus he ran back, as fast as his legs could carry him, and Charlemagne
smiled yet more when he saw the beautiful child, who knew no fear,
return to the place where he had thieved. Right up to the King's chair he
came, solemnly measured with his eye the cups of wine that the great
company quaffed, saw that the cup of Charlemagne was the most
beautiful and the fullest of the purple-red wine, stretched out a daring
little hand, grasped the cup, and prepared to go off again, like a
marauding bright-eyed bird. Then the King seized in his own hand the
hand that held the cup.
"No! no! bold thief," he said, "I cannot have my golden cup stolen from
me, be it done by ever so sturdy a robber. Tell me, who sent thee out to
steal?"
And Roland, an erect, gallant, little figure, his hand still in the iron grip
of the King, fearlessly and proudly gazed back into the eyes of
Charlemagne.