he could scarce bend
them. But what distinguished the youth more than anything else was a
large umbrageous wreath on the top of his head. The young girls had
twined it out of weeping-willow leaves and flowers in such a way that
the pretty chains of pinks and roses flowed a long way down the youth's
shoulders like long maidenhair, leaving only his face free, and thus
forming a parting on both sides.

Will he win this wreath again? Who can tell?

"Well, Martin," said the judge, "so here we have red Whitsun-Day again,
eh?"

"I know it, noble sir. To-morrow I also shall be in church, and will
listen."

"Then you intend to remain Whitsun King this year also?"

"I shall not be wanting to myself, noble sir. This is only the sixth
year that I have been Whitsun King."

"And do you know how many buckets of wine you have drunk during that
period, and how many guests you have chucked out of feasts,
sow-dances,[5] and banquets?"

[Footnote 5: A dance given at sow-slaughtering time.]

"I cannot say, noble sir. My one thought was not to miss one of them,
and so much I may say, neither man nor wine has ever floored me."

"Mr. Notary, read to him how many pitchers of wine and how many broken
heads stand to his account!"

And it appeared from the register that Martin, during the year of his
Whitsun Kingship, had cost the community seventy-two firkins of wine,
and more than a hundred heads broken for fun. He had also made an
innkeeper quite a rich man by smashing all his glasses every week, which
the town paid for.

"And now, answer me further, little brother: How many times have your
horses come to grief?"

"I have not troubled myself about them. I leave all that to my
underlings."

"How many girls have you befooled?"

"Why should they let themselves be befooled?"

"How much of ill-gotten goods has passed through your hands?"

"Nobody has ever caught me."

"But thy Whitsun Kingship has cost the town a pretty penny."

"I know this much, that it does not come out of the coffers of the town,
but out of the pockets of our dear father, the noble John Karpathy,
whose worthy phiz I see hanging up on the wall yonder. He it is who has
presented a sum of money to the community to keep up our old customs,
and to improve the breed of our horses by gathering together all our
young riders, in order that they may run races with one another. I also
know that whoever proves to be the victor on that occasion has the
privilege of