d of the piece. He was frightened, and his voice shook
as he spoke, but every one was smiling, so he took new heart.

"It is a masque of Summer-time and Spring," said he, "wherein both
claim to be best-loved, and have their say of wit and humor, and each
her part of songs and dances suited to her time, the sprightly galliard
and the nimble jig for Spring, the slow pavone, the stately peacock
dance, for Summer-time. And win who may, fair Summer-time or merry
Spring, the winner is but that beside our Queen!"--with which he snapped
his fingers in the faces of them all--"God save Queen Bess!"

At that the Queen's eyes twinkled, and she nodded, highly pleased, so
that every one clapped mightily.

The play soon ran its course amid great laughter and applause. Spring
won. The English ever loved her best, and the quick-paced galliard took
their fancy, too. "Up and be doing!" was its tune, and it gave one a
chance to cut fine capers with his heels.

Then the stage stood empty and the music stopped.

At this strange end a whisper of surprise ran through the hall. The
Queen tapped with the inner side of her rings upon the broad arm of her
chair. From the look on her face she was whetting her tongue. But before
she could speak, Nick and Colley, dressed as a farmer boy and girl, with
a garland of house-grown flowers about them, came down the stage from
the arras, hand in hand, bowing.

The audience-chamber grew very still--_this_ was something new. Nick
felt a swallowing in his throat, and Colley's hand winced in his grip.
There was no sound but a silky rustling in the room.

Then suddenly the boys behind the players' curtain laughed together,
not loud, but such a jolly little laugh that all the people smiled to
hear it. After the laughter came a hush.

Then the pipes overhead made a merry sound as of shepherds piping on
oaten straws in new grass where there are daisies; and there was a
little elfish laughter of clarionets, and a fluttering among the cool
flutes like spring wind blowing through crisp young leaves in April. The
harps began to pulse and throb with a soft cadence like raindrops
falling into a clear pool where brown leaves lie upon the bottom and
bubbles float above green stones and smooth white pebbles. Nick lifted
up his head and sang.

It was a happy little song of the coming and the triumph of the spring.
The words were all forgotten long ago. They were not much: enough to
serve the turn, no more; but the