"But why have they hung a blue cloth in front of it?"

"I expect that's in our honour too."

They took hands and trotted to the end of the orchard; and there, beyond
the hedge, ran a canal, and beyond the canal a wide flat country
stretched away to the sea,--a land dotted with windmills and cattle and
red-and-white houses with weathercocks,--a land, too, criss-crossed with
canals, whereon dozens of boats, and even some large ships, threaded
their way like dancers in and out of the groups of cattle, or sailed
past a house so closely as almost to poke a bowsprit through the front
door. The weather-cocks spun and glittered, the windmills waved their
arms, the boats bowed and curtseyed to the children. Never was such a
salutation. Even the blue cloth in the distance twinkled, and Ferdinand
saw at a glance that it was embroidered with silver.

But the finest flash of all came from a barge moored in the canal just
below them, where a middle-aged woman sat scouring a copper pan.

"Good-day!" cried Ferdinand across the hedge. "Why are you doing that?"

"Why, in honour of the wedding, to be sure. 'Must show one's best at
such times, if only for one's own satisfaction." Then, as he climbed
into view and helped Sophia over the hedge, she recognised them, and,
dropping her pan with a clatter, called on the saints to bless them and
keep them always. The bridal pair clambered down to the towpath, and
from the towpath to her cabin, where she fed them (for they were hungry
by this time) with bread and honey from a marvellous cupboard painted
all over with tulips: in short, they enjoyed themselves immensely.