And then, with a giggle, she whispered, "We've had the goose and the sage, so perhaps these are the onions!"
At that moment Portunus began to tune his fiddle again, and Professor Wisp called out to them to form up again in two rows.
"This time, my little misses," he said, "it's to be a sad solemn dance, so Miss Primrose must foot it with you—'a very aristocratic dance, such as was danced at the court of Duke Aubrey'!" and he gave them a roguish wink.
So admirable had been his imitation of Miss Primrose's voice that, for all he was such a vulgar buffoon, the Crabapple Blossoms could not help giggling.
"But I'll ask you to listen to the tune before you begin to dance it," he went on. "Now then, Portunus!"
"Why! It's just 'Columbine' over again...." began Prunella scornfully.
But the words froze on her lips, and she stood spellbound and frightened.
It was 'Columbine,' but with a difference. For, since they had last heard it, the tune might have died, and wandered in strange places, to come back to earth, an angry ghost.
"Now, then, dance!" cried Professor Wisp, in harsh, peremptory tones.
And it was in sheer self-defence that they obeyed—as if by dancing they somehow or other escaped from that tune, which seemed to be themselves.