“But there are lots more to come!” objected Colin, looking at the “pageant book” which Master Gyseburn held open on his knee. Though he could not read, he saw by the long list which followed the Massacre of the Innocents that scarcely half of the plays had as yet been performed.
Mistress Harpham had turned away to superintend arrangements for the supper she was about to offer her guests, but Master Gyseburn answered the children’s questions.
“The plays will go on all day to-morrow, and the next day too, I expect,” he told them. “It very seldom happens that any town gets through all its pageants on one day. Certainly not here in York, where we generally act forty of them.”
“But suppose it gets dark in the middle of a play?” asked Margery. “What happens then?”
“Then the torch-bearers are called out,” said Master Gyseburn. “I expect they’ll be needed before the next one is over,” he added. “The daylight will scarcely last.”
“And they’ll go on to-morrow, and we shan’t be here!” sighed Margery, so dolefully that Master Gyseburn laughed.
“You’re not tired of them? And yet you’ve had a long day of it!”
“Tired? Oh! I should love to see every one of them!” Margery declared.
“And so should I,” echoed her brother.
“A great many sad and dreadful scenes will come to-morrow,” said Master Gyseburn. “I really think you’ve seen all that would please you. The others are for grown-up people. And some are too horrible for them,” he added. “At least I think so.”