“There’ll be a fine crowd in the streets by the time they’re all done,” said Master Harpham. “But if you go now, while some of the folk are still looking at the plays, you’ll reach the inn without much trouble.”
“Aye, and Robert will go with you and show you the quickest by-ways to reach it; won’t you, Robert?” suggested his wife, as she prepared to follow Mistress Short and the children to the best bedroom, where they had left their cloaks.
Colin and Margery were soon ready, and with their little hoods tied round their necks they returned to the parlour, and ran eagerly to the window, anxious up to the last moment to see all that was going on.
They found Giles kneeling on one of the wide window-seats, looking out into the street, and Margery climbed up beside him. She had taken a great fancy to her clever, interesting cousin, and she thought how pretty he looked with his fair head resting against the woodwork of the window.
“What are they doing now?” she asked before her own curly head appeared above the level of the window-sill.
“The Child Jesus in the Temple,” said Giles. “It’s the Spur-makers’ and Bit-makers’ pageant, and Andrew Martin is the Child Jesus. He’s a friend of mine,” he added.
“Oh! the torch-bearers are there!” exclaimed Colin. “It has got dark quickly!”
“Doesn’t it look nice in this light?” said Margery; and Giles nodded, too intent upon the play to reply.
At the foot of the pageant, all holding flaming torches aloft, four boys were stationed, and the ruddy glow flickered over a beautiful group on the stage. The learned doctors in their long robes leant upon one another’s shoulders or whispered together, their eyes fixed upon a youthful figure in their midst, Who in a grave yet charming voice was reading something from a roll of parchment.
“It’s Jesus when He was a Boy, isn’t it?” whispered Margery; and again Giles nodded.