The boy wore a long sheepskin coat, and his fair hair was made brighter by gilding. His legs were bare, and on his feet were sandals.
“Andrew is wonderful!” said Giles gravely, “all his gestures are good and dignified. And so is his voice. This was the part they wanted me to play, but I would not attempt it. I knew Andrew would do it better.”
Margery glanced at her cousin admiringly. In her little mind she felt sure that Giles too was wonderful, and that all she had heard about the great things he was to do in the future had not been exaggerated. Some day, she was certain, Giles would be a famous man. Her thoughts were put to flight, however, by the entrance of her mother and a large company of other guests all ready for departure; so leave-takings were very hurried.
But she found time to hug Giles, who in spite of the laughter which went round, allowed himself to be kissed with very good grace.
“We will go out by the back way,” called Master Harpham, and the children soon found themselves in a quiet street, where the noise from the market-place sounded only as a faint murmur.
By winding lanes and passages Master Harpham led his guests towards the “Dragon” inn where they had left their horses and their wagons. Every now and then however, when they turned a corner, Margery and Colin caught a glimpse of a crowd, of flaming torches, and of the top of one of the pageants stationed sometimes half-way up a street, sometimes in a little open space, sometimes beneath a city gate.
“They are still going on!” Colin exclaimed.
“Yes; but only till the pageant of the Doctors in the Temple has been played at the last halting-place,” said Master Harpham, looking back over his shoulder at the little boy. “It’s all over for to-night in our market-place, for instance; but the Doctors’ play won’t reach Girdlegate, the last place, for another half-hour, perhaps.... Now, here’s the inn! Hurry, all of you, and you will get out your horses before there’s too much of a crush.”
Dobbin and Jock, looking quite fresh after their long day’s rest, were soon led out from their corner of the stables, and in a moment Margery was perched on Dobbin’s back, in front of her father.
“Good-nights” were called, and, in company with various other travellers, the children rode along the cobble-paved streets towards Mikelgate, from which the pageants had long ago departed, leaving the road to the gate clear.