The Giant's Marrow

It bled a little, but it had to be done.  He gave up on the cleaver early.  It was too clumsy.  The mechanical grinder was worse; it used him up so fast, besides making an awful mess.

In the end, he used a long knife to make thin slices of meat, starting from the feet and working up.  Then the bones went under the mill-wheel, one at a time, each making a handful of flour.  While his hands held out, of course.

He was no Englishman, of course.  It spoiled the taste a bit.  But he had his daily bread.