The Canterbury Tales is a frame story. A narrator who calls himself one of the pilgrims arrives at the Tabard inn in Southwark in spring, ready to ride to the shrine of the martyr Thomas Becket at Canterbury. By chance a company of about twenty-nine other travelers has gathered there on the same errand, and he joins their fellowship for the journey.
The long General Prologue introduces the pilgrims one by one. Chaucer the narrator reports their clothes, habits, and livelihoods with a watchful, often ironic eye: a worthy Knight just back from war, his fashionable young Squire, a dainty Prioress, a hunting Monk, a money-minded Merchant, a much-married Wife from near Bath, a corrupt Summoner and Pardoner, an honest Parson and Plowman, and many more. Together they form a portrait of the trades and ranks of the age.
At the inn the Host, Harry Bailly, proposes a game to pass the miles. Each pilgrim shall tell tales going to Canterbury and more coming back, and whoever tells the best, judged for both moral weight and delight, will win a supper paid for by the rest. The pilgrims agree to let the Host rule the contest, and the storytelling begins. The full plan is never completed, so the book that survives is a generous fragment rather than a finished round trip.
The tales themselves are deliberately varied. The Knight opens with a stately romance of two cousins in love with the same woman. The Miller answers with a crude bedroom farce, the Reeve repays him with another, and the Wife of Bath argues at length that what women most want is mastery over their husbands before telling a tale that proves it. The Pardoner delivers a brilliant sermon against the love of money even as he sells fake relics, and other pilgrims add saints' lives, beast fables, a sober treatise, and more.
Across this range Chaucer keeps the human frame in view. The pilgrims interrupt, quarrel, flatter, and take revenge through their stories, so the links between tales are themselves a kind of comedy of manners. The result is less a single argument than a crowded, lifelike spread of voices, in which high ideals and low appetites, piety and fraud, sit together on one road and are observed with curiosity rather than easy judgment.