TO SING BEFORE THE QUEEN 185

firelight from behind him falling in a glory on his thin
white hair. “Be off, ye rogues! Ye are not fit to waste
good language on; or, faith, I’d Latin ye all as dumb as
fishes in the depths of the briny sea!”

“Hurrah for the fishes in the sea!”

“Soft, ye knaves! Save thy throats for good Queen
Bess!”

“Hurrah for good Queen Bess!”

“Be still, I say, ye good-for-nothing varlets; or ye
sha’n’t have pie and ale to-night. But marry, now, ye
shall have pie—ay, pie and ale without a stint; for ye are
good lads, and ye have pleased the Queen at last; and Iam
as proud of ye as a peacock is of his own tail!”

“Hurrah for the Queen—and the pie—and the ale!
Hurrah for the peacock and his tail!” shouted the boys;
and straightway, seeing that they had made a rhyme, they
gave a cheer shriller and longer than all the others put
together, and went clattering down the stairway, singing
at the top of their lungs:

“Hurrah for the Queen, and the pie and the ale!
Hurrah for the peacock, hurrah for his tail!
Hurrah for hurrah, and hurrah again—

We ’re going to court on Christmas day
To sing before the Queen!”

“Good lads, good lads!” said the old precentor to him-
self, as he turned back into his littleroom. His eyes were
shining proudly in the candle-light, yet the tears were
running down his cheeks. A queer old man, Nat Gyles,