"Have mine, too, Bassia! Thou art a better thrower than I!" a third shouted, handing up her basket.
"Be sure of your aim, Bassia!"
The uproar became general.
"A handful for the simpering hand-maid, too!"
"Don't miss the she-Herod!"
"Fall to, wives; don't leave it all to Bassia!"
"'Way for the proconsul!"—a distant roar came up from the water's edge.
"Bilge-water in my jar, there, mate; it will mix their perfumes!"
"'Way for the proconsul!" the distant roar insisted.
"Don't soil the proconsul, women!"