16 MASTER SKYLARK

Nick kissed her impetuously and sat down, but his heart
still rankled within him.

All Stratford would go to the play. He could hear the
murmur of voices and music, the bursts of laughter and
applause, the tramp of happy feet going up the guildhall
stairs to the Mayor’s show. Everybody went in free at the
Mayor’s show. The other boys could stand on stools and
see it all. They could hold horses at the gate of the inn
at the September fair, and so see all the farces. They
could see the famous Norwich puppet-play. But he—what
pleasure did he ever have? A tawdry pageant by a lot of
clumsy country bumpkins at Whitsuntide or Pentecost, or
a silly school-boy masque at Christmas, with the master
scolding like a heathen Turk. It was not fair.

And now he’d have to work all May-day. May-day
out of all the year! Why, there was to be a May-pole
and a morris-dance, and a roasted calf, too, in Master
Wainwright’s field, since Margery was chosen Queen of
the May. And Peter Finch was to be Robin Hood, and
Nan Rogers Maid Marian, and wear a kirtle of Kendal
green—and, oh, but the May-pole would be brave; high as
the ridge of the guildschool roof, and hung with ribbons
like a rainbow! Geoffrey Hall was to lead the dance,
too, and the other boys and girls would all be there. And
where would he be? Sousing hides in the tannery vats.
Truly his father was a hard man!

He pushed the cheese away.