"Take me!" cried Merrylips, with her mouth full. "Oh, take me too, good Longkin!"
"Thou art too small, pigwidgeon," said Flip.
"I ben't," clamored Merrylips. "I can trudge stoutly and never cry, I promise ye. I be as apt to go as thou, Flip Venner. Thou hast but four years the better of me."
"Ay, but I am a lad, and thou art but a wench," said Flip.
He had had the worst of the game with his elder brothers, poor Flip! So he was not in the sweetest of humors.
"I care not!" Merrylips said stoutly. "Where thou canst go, Flip, I can go!"
At this they all laughed, even that tall youth Longkin, who was growing to stand upon his dignity.
"Come, Merrylips!" Longkin teased. "What wilt thou do an Flip get him a long sword and go to war? 'Tis likely he may do so."
"And that's no jest," cried Flip, most earnestly. "Father saith an the base Puritan fellows lower not their tone, all we that be loyal subjects to the king must e'en march forth and trounce 'em."
"Then Heaven send they lower not their tone!" added Munn. "I be wearied of Ovid and Tully. Send us a war, and speedily, that I may toss my dreary book to the rafters and go trail a pike like a lad of spirit!"