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.




CHAPTER III


THE LAST STRAW

Little John Summer had a new horn-book that cost a silver penny. The
handle was carven and the horn was clear as honey. The other little boys
stood round about in speechless envy, or murmured their A B C's and "ba
be bi's" along the chapel steps. The lower-form boys were playing
leap-frog past the almshouse, and Geoffrey Gosse and the vicar's son
were in the public gravel-pit, throwing stones at the robins in the