said Elizabeth. “Your brother Jem has just run up to say that t’ rush-cart has set out, and that Robin Hood and his merry men are comin’ for their Queen.”
“And their Queen is quite ready for them,” replied Alizon, moving towards the door.
“Neigh, let’s ha’ a look at ye fust, wench,” cried Elizabeth, staying her; “fine fitthers may fine brids—ey warrant me now yo’n getten these May gewgaws on, yo fancy yourself a queen in arnest.”
“A queen of a day, mother; a queen of a little village festival; nothing more,” replied Alizon. “Oh, if I were a queen in right earnest, or even a great lady—”
“Whot would yo do?” demanded Elizabeth Device, sourly.
“I’d make you rich, mother, and build you a grand house to live in,” replied Alizon; “much grander than Browsholme, or Downham, or Middleton.”
“Pity yo’re nah a queen then, Alizon,” replied Elizabeth, relaxing her harsh features into a wintry smile.
“Whot would ye do fo me, Alizon, if ye were a queen?” asked little Jennet, looking up at her.
“Why, let me see,” was the reply; “I’d indulge every one of your whims and wishes. You should only need ask to have.”
“Poh—poh—yo’d never content her,” observed Elizabeth, testily.
“It’s nah your way to try an content me, mother, even whon ye might,” rejoined Jennet, who, if she loved few people, loved her mother least of all, and never lost an opportunity of testifying her dislike to her.
“Awt o’pontee, little wasp,” cried her mother; “theaw desarves nowt boh whot theaw dustna get often enough—a good whipping.”
“Yo hanna towd us whot yo’d do fo yurself if yo war a great lady, Alizon?” interposed Susan.
“Oh, I haven’t thought about myself,” replied the other, laughing.
“Ey con tell ye what she’d do, Suky,” replied little Jennet, knowingly; “she’d marry Master Richard Assheton, o’ Middleton.”
“Jennet!” exclaimed Alizon, blushing crimson.
“It’s true,” replied the little girl; “ye knoa ye would, Alizon, Look at her feace,” she added, with a screaming laugh.
“Howd te tongue, little plague,” cried Elizabeth, rapping her knuckles with her stick, “and behave thyself, or theaw shanna go out to t’ wake.”
Jennet dealt her mother a bitterly vindictive look, but she neither uttered cry, nor made remark.
In the momentary silence that ensued the blithe jingling of bells was heard, accompanied by the merry sound of tabor and pipe.
“Ah! here come the rush-cart and the morris-dancers,” cried Alizon, rushing joyously to the window, which, being left partly open, admitted the scent of the woodbine and eglantine by which it was overgrown, as well as the humming sound of the bees by which the flowers were invaded.
Almost immediately afterwards a frolic troop, like a band of masquers, approached the cottage, and drew up before it, while the jingling of bells ceasing at the same moment, told that the rush-cart had stopped likewise. Chief amongst the party was Robin Hood clad in a suit of Lincoln green, with a sheaf of arrows at his back, a bugle dangling from his baldric, a bow in his hand, and a broad-leaved green hat on his head, looped up on one side, and decorated with a heron’s feather. The hero of Sherwood was personated by a tall, well-limbed fellow, to whom, being really a forester of Bowland, the character was natural. Beside him stood a very different figure, a jovial friar, with shaven crown, rubicund cheeks, bull throat, and mighty paunch, covered by a russet habit, and girded in by a red cord, decorated with golden twist and tassel. He wore red hose and sandal shoon, and carried in his girdle a Wallet, to contain a roast capon, a neat’s tongue, or any other dainty given him. Friar Tuck, for such he was, found his representative in Ned Huddlestone, porter at the abbey, who, as the largest and stoutest man in the village, was chosen on that account to the part. Next to him came a character of no little importance, and upon whom much of the mirth of the pageant depended, and this devolved upon the village cobbler, Jack Roby, a dapper little fellow, who fitted the part of the Fool to a nicety. With bauble in hand, and blue coxcomb hood adorned with long white asses’ ears on head, with jerkin of green, striped with yellow; hose of different colours, the left leg being yellow, with a red pantoufle, and the right blue, terminated with a yellow shoe; with bells hung upon various parts of his motley attire, so that he could not move without producing a jingling sound, Jack Roby looked wonderful indeed; and was constantly dancing about, and dealing a blow with his bauble. Next came Will Scarlet, Stukely, and Little John, all proper men and tall, attired in Lincoln green, like Robin Hood, and similarly equipped. Like him, too, they were all foresters of Bowland, owning service to the bow-bearer, Mr. Parker of Browsholme hall; and the representative of Little John, who was six feet and a half high, and stout in proportion, was Lawrence Blackrod, Mr. Parker’s head keeper. After the foresters came Tom the Piper, a wandering minstrel, habited for the occasion in a blue doublet, with sleeves of the same colour, turned up with yellow, red hose, and brown buskins, red bonnet, and green surcoat lined with yellow. Beside the piper was another minstrel, similarly attired, and provided with a tabor. Lastly came one of the main features of the pageant, and which, together with the Fool, contributed most materially to the amusement of the spectators. This was the Hobby-horse. The hue of this, spirited charger was a pinkish white, and his housings were of crimson cloth hanging to the ground, so as to conceal the rider’s real legs, though a pair of sham ones dangled at the side. His bit was of gold, and his bridle red morocco leather, while his rider was very sumptuously arrayed in a purple mantle, bordered with gold, with a rich cap of the same regal hue on his head, encircled with gold, and having a red feather stuck in it. The hobby-horse had a plume of nodding feathers on his head, and careered from side to side, now rearing in front, now kicking behind, now prancing, now gently ambling, and in short indulging in playful fancies and vagaries, such as horse never indulged in before, to the imminent danger, it seemed, of his rider, and to the huge delight of the beholders. Nor must it be omitted, as it was matter of great wonderment to the lookers-on, that by some legerdemain contrivance the rider of the hobby-horse had a couple of daggers stuck in his cheeks, while from his steed’s bridle hung a silver ladle, which he held now and then to the crowd, and in which, when he did so, a few coins were sure to rattle. After the hobby-horse came the May-pole, not the tall pole so called and which was already planted in the green, but a stout staff elevated some six feet above the head of the bearer, with a coronal of flowers atop, and four long garlands hanging down, each held by a morris-dancer. Then came the May Queen’s gentleman usher, a fantastic personage in habiliments of blue guarded with white, and holding a long willow wand in his hand. After the usher came the main troop of morris-dancers—the men attired in a graceful costume, which set off their light active figures to advantage, consisting of a slashed-jerkin of black and white velvet, with cut sleeves left open so as to reveal the snowy shirt beneath, white hose, and shoes of black Spanish leather with large roses. Ribands were every where in their dresses—ribands and tinsel adorned their caps, ribands crossed their hose, and ribands were tied round their arms. In either hand they held a long white handkerchief knotted with ribands. The female morris-dancers were habited in white, decorated like the dresses of the men; they had ribands and wreaths of flowers round their heads, bows in their hair, and in their hands long white knotted kerchiefs.
In the rear of the performers in the pageant came the rush-cart drawn by a team of eight stout horses, with their manes and tails tied with ribands, their collars fringed with red and yellow worsted, and hung with bells, which jingled blithely at every movement, and their heads decked with flowers.
