"No! No!" wailed Vittori; "lighted things would melt the snow."
"To be sure," agreed Pasino sympathetically.
"I know something that might be pretty," ventured Tonin timidly.
"What is it?" Vittori demanded.
For answer the boy turned from the seneschal and his fellow-retainers, and whispered to Pasino apart. The old man's face brightened as he received the boy's confidence.
"I don't know," he commented; "but it ought to be good—yes, yes, it would be, it would indeed!"
"Then let him put it through," shouted the seneschal desperately. "I can't wait to hear what it is, for I'm late now. Do as he says, everybody, for I've got to trust my reputation to this stripling whether I like it or not. Saints help him, for if the work is a failure, woe to poor Vittori! Have your ornament ready in the lower rear passage, lad, when the tray goes through to the banquet-room. Everything else shall be taken in first, so that you may have as much time as possible."
Off went the harassed seneschal, and Tonin, beset with misgivings lest he had been both rash and bold in his offer of assistance, addressed the grooms with outward composure.
"Bring me a firkin of butter, a pail of the coldest spring water, and a big china platter."
His orders were swiftly obeyed, and all looked on with expectant interest while he directed a servant to dig from the cask as much butter as could be heaped on the platter. Next he rolled back his sleeves and plunged his hands into the water-pail, holding them there until they were sufficiently cooled for his purpose, then attacking the butter with his dripping fingers, he rolled and patted it into a goodly loaf, with motions so quick and decisive that the spectators fairly blinked. Seizing a small chisel and a pointed wooden blade from Pasino's tool-chest, Tonin began to convert the meaningless dairy lump into a form familiar to all beholders.