“Does he? Well may be as how he does.”
“And so ye see, lass, there beant no yoose your being so obstinate. You must say a kind word or two to Joe or else——”
“Or else, what, master?”
“Well, maybe you and I shall fall out.”
“We ha’ never done that as yet, anyhow.”
“Noa, an’ I hopes as how we never shall.”
“Tell him what you like then, it won’t alter his love, you foolish hussey; and now go and have your thumbs tied.”
“What, run for the lamb!” she cried, shrinking back a little.
“Aye, run for the lamb. Ye’re the straightest-limbed girl in these parts, and the strongest. Joe Doughty is the Lord of the Harvest, and so, gell, you must be the Lady of the Lamb.”
The lamb race, as it is termed, is thus regulated. A young lamb is run for by the young maidens, who have their thumbs tied behind their backs. Whoever succeeds in first seizing the lamb with her mouth, retains it as her prize, and receives the title of the Lady of the Lamb.