beat me!"
She turned, grasping Phoebe's arm to enforce her request, but she
found that others had crowded in behind them and had hemmed them in.
This would not have deterred her but, unaccountably, Phoebe did not
seem inclined to move.
"Nay--nay!" she said. "'Tis a wanton wastrel, and he well deserves the
pillory. But, Rebecca, I've a mind to see what observance these people
will give the varlet. Last time I saw one pilloried, alas! they slew him
with shards and paving-stones. This fellow is liker to be pelted with
nosegays, methinks."
"Mercy me, Phoebe! Whatever--what--oh, goodness gracious grandmother,
child!" Poor Rebecca could find only exclamations wherein to express her
feelings. She began to wonder if she were dreaming.
At this moment a sprightly, dashing lad, in ragged clothing and
bareheaded, sprang to the platform beside the prisoner and waved his
arms for silence.
There were cries of "Hear--hear!" "Look at Baiting Will!" "Ho--ho--bully
rook!" "Sh-sh-h!"
After a time the tumult subsided so that Baiting Will could make himself
heard. He was evidently a well-known street wag, for his remarks were
received with frequent laughter and vocal applause.
"Hear ye--hear ye--all good folk and merry!" he shouted. "Here ye see
the liege lord of all May merry-makers. Hail to the King of the May, my
bully boys!"
"Ho--ho! All hail!"
"Hurrah--crown him, crown him!"
"The King of the May forever!"
By dint of bawling for silence till he was red in the face, the speaker
at length made himself heard again.
"What say ye, my good hearts--shall we have a double coronation? Where's
the quean will be his consort? Bring her forward, lads. We'll crown the
twain."
This proposal was greeted with a roar of laughter and approval, and a
number of slattern women showing the effects of strong ale in their
faces stepped boldly forward as competitors for coronation.
But again Baiting Will waved his arms for a chance to speak.
"Nay, my merry lads and lasses," he cried, "it were not meet to wed our
gracious lord the king without giving him a chance to choose his queen!"
He leaned his ear close to the grinning head, pretending to listen a
moment. Then, standing forward, he cried:
"His gracious and sovereign majesty hath bid me proclaim his choice. He
bids ye send him up for queen yon buxom dame in the black doublet and
unruffed neck--her wi' the black wand and outland scrip."
He pointed directly at Rebecca.
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