Say--a--a--a--ay!

Men.
Bawbles and milk and a robe of silk,
Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!

A Woman. _(pointing to the Squire)_
What have you got for She, Good-man?

All Women, _(pointing to the Squire)_
Say--a--a--a--ay!

Men. _(stooping as if to carry a burden)_
Why, sheaf and stack, and a weary back,
Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!

CHORUS.
Everybody.
Bread in the oven, milk in the can,
And wood for the winter fire!

Fire-ire-ire!
A broken back for the husbandman,
And golden corn for the Squire!

Squire-ire-ire!

_(At end of Chorus a young girl comes from the
crowd and presents Kate with a basket of fruit
and flowers. Kate kisses her--the girl returns.)_

{Gun.} Squire Verity, it was my desire for to have
been took down in my words by Mercury. Mercury,
however, is _non composite_, as the saying goes.

{Villagers.} More shame for him!

{Gun.} But what I have to tell you is this here,
Squire; the men wish you a better harvest next harvest
than this harvest--as much 'ops and more wheat
and barley, not to say hoats.

{Villagers.} Hear, hear!

{Gun.} The women wish you a good husband, who'll
love you and protect you and put a load o' money
into the land, and have all the cottages well
white-washed.

{Villagers.} Hear! Hear!

{Gun.} And lastly--if the parson will allow me that
word--lastly, we all wish you may live amongst us
long and happy until you're an octo--an octo--an
octagon. I'm sorry _Mercury_ can't take me down.

{Villagers.} Bravo, Gunnion! Well spoken, very
good!

_(Kate rising--with her hand on the little Child's
head--Felicity puts stool bach, and stands by
Kate taking her hand and kissing it at end of
speech.)_

{Kate.} My dear friends, you are kinder to me
than I deserve, which makes me very pained at what
I have to tell you. You and I, who have been
together for so many years, and who have loved one
another so much, have to part company.

{Villagers.} _(murmur)_ What!

{Gun.} Part company! You don't mean to say
you're going to put more machinery in the land,
Squire?

{Kate.} I mean that I am going away from Market-
Sinfield, perhaps never to come back.

{Villagers.} Oh, what w