Then she helped him fetch the trestles from the buttery, set the board,
spread the cloth, and lay the wooden platters, pewter cups, and old horn
spoons in place. Breakfast being ready, she then called his father from
the yard. Nick waited deftly upon them both, so that they were soon done
with the simple meal of rye-bread, lettuce, cheese, and milk.

As he carried away the empty platters and brought water and a towel for
them to wash their hands, he said quietly, although his eyes were bright
and eager, "The Lord High Admiral's company is to act a stage-play at
the guildhall to-morrow before Master Davenant the Mayor and the town
burgesses."

Simon Attwood said nothing, but his brows drew down.

"They came yestreen from London town by Oxford way to play in Stratford
and at Coventry, and are at the Swan Inn with Master Geoffrey
Inchbold--oh, ever so many of them, in scarlet jerkins, and cloth of
gold, and doublets of silk laced up like any lord! It is a very good
company, they say."

Mistress Attwood looked quickly at her husband. "What will they play?"
she asked.

"I can na say surely, mother--'Tamburlane,' perhaps, or 'The Troublesome
Reign of Old King John.' The play will be free, father--may I go, sir?"

"And lose thy time from school?"

"There is no school to-morrow, sir."