THIRD GOODY (to the lad). You poor, poor child!
[The Goodies pass on, shaking their heads and their canes indignantly.]
MILLER. Come, lad, get up behind me.
SON. Why, father, I'm not tired!
MILLER. I know, but we must try to please them. Come.
[The lad mounts, sitting behind his father. Enter the MAYOR and his CLERKS. They go to the Fair.]
MAYOR (turning to his Clerks; pointing to the Miller and his Son). Look, will you!
(He turns to the Miller.)
Pray, honest friend, is that beast your own?
MILLER. Yes, my lord Mayor.