, their opposites, orange tawny, while
the nether socks and shoes were in like manner black and scarlet
counterchanged. And yet, somehow, whether from the way of wearing it,
or from the effect of the gold embroidery meandering over all, the
effect was not distressing, but more like that of a gorgeous bird. The
figure was tall, lithe, and active, the brown ruddy face had none of the
blank stare of vacant idiocy, but was full of twinkling merriment, the
black eyes laughed gaily, and perhaps only so clear-sighted and shrewd
an observer as Tibble would have detected a weakness of purpose about
the mouth.

There was a roar of laughter at the gibe, as indeed there was at
whatever was uttered by the man whose profession was to make mirth.

"Thou likest thy food well enough thyself, quipsome one," muttered Ralf.

"Hast found one who doth not, Ralf? Then should he have a free gift of
my bauble," responded the jester, shaking on high that badge, surmounted
with the golden head of an ass, and jingling with bells. "How now,
friend Wrymouth? 'Tis long since thou wert here! This house hath well-
nigh been forced to its ghostly weapons for lack of thy substantial
ones. Where hast thou been?"

"At Salisbury, good Merryman."

"Have the Wilts men raked the moon yet out of the pond? Did they lend
thee their rake, Tib, that thou hast raked up a couple of green Forest
palmerworms, or be they the sons of the man in the moon, raked out and
all astray?"

"Mayhap, for we met them with dog and bush," said Tibble, "and they
dropped as from the moon to save my poor master from the robbers on
Bagshot heath! Come now, mine honest fellow, aid me to rake, as thou
sayest, this same household. They are come up from the Forest, to seek
out their uncle, one Randall, who they have heard to be in this meine.
Knowest thou such a fellow?"

"To seek a spider in a stubble-field! Truly he needs my bauble who sent
them on such an errand," said the jester, rather slowly, as if to take
time for consideration. "What's your name, my Forest flies?"

"Birkenholt sir," answered Ambrose, "but our uncle is Harry Randall."

"Here's fools enow to take away mine office," was the reply. "Here's a
couple of lads would leave the greenwood and the free oaks and beeches,
for this stinking, plague-smitten London."

"We'd not have quitted it could we have tarried at home," began Ambrose;
but at that moment there was a sudden commotion, a trampling of horses