First, when all were come in and had doffed their out-door raiment, and greeting over, we sat us down to supper: where one of the barons of beef, and plum-porridge, and apple-pies, and chicken-pies, and syllabub, and all manner of good things: but in very deed I might scarce eat my supper for laughing at _Nym Lewthwaite_, that was sat right over against me, and did scarce taste aught, but spent the time in gazing lack-a-daisically on our _Helen_, and fetching great sighs with his hand laid of his heart. Supper o'er, we first had snap-dragon, then hot cockles, then blindman's buff, then hunt the weasel. We pausing to take breath at after, _Father_ called us to sing; so we gathered all in the great chamber, and first _Mynheer_ sang a _Dutch_ song, and then Sir _Robert_ and Mistress _Martin_ a rare part-song, touching the beauties of spring-time. Then sang Farmer _Benson_, Master _Armstrong_, and _Ben_ and _Agnes_, "The hunt is up," which was delightsome to hear. Then Aunt _Joyce_ would sing "Pastime with good company," and would needs have _Milisent_ and me and _Robin Lewthwaite_ to help her. After this _Jack Lewthwaite_ and _Nick Armstrong_ made us to laugh well, by singing "The cramp is in my purse full sore." The music ended with a sweet glee of _Faith_ and _Temperance Murthwaite_ (something sober, but I know it liked _Father_ none the worse) and the old _English_ song of "Summer is ycumen in," sung of _Father_ and Sir _Robert_, our _Helen_, and _Isabel Meade_. Then we sat around the fire till rear-supper, and had "Questions and Commands," and cried forfeits, and wound up with "I love my love." And some were rare witty and mirthful in that last, particularly Sir _Robert_, who did treat his love to oranges and orfevery in the _Orcades_ [Hebrides] (and _Father_ said he marvelled how he gat them there), and Aunt _Joyce_, who said her love was _Benjamin Breakrope_, and he came from the Tower of _Babel_. Then, after that, fell we a-telling stories: and a right brave one of _Father_, out of one of his old Chronicles, how Queen _Philippa_ gat a pardon from her lord for the six gentlemen of _Calais_: and a merry, of Dr _Meade_, touching King _John_ and the Abbot of _Canterbury_, and the three questions that the King did ask at the Abbot's gardener (he playing his master), and the witty answers he made unto him. Then would Master _Armstrong_ tell a tale; and an awesome ghost-story it were, that made my flesh creep, and _Milisent_ whispered in mine ear that she should sleep never a wink at after it. "Eh!" saith Farmer _Benson_, and fetched an heavy sigh: "ghosts be ill matter of an house." "Saw you e'er a ghost, Farmer _Benson_?" saith _Dudley Murthwaite_. "Nay, lad," quoth he: "I've had too much good daylight work in my time to lie awake a-seeing ghosts when night cometh." "Ah, but I've seen a ghost," saith _Austin Park_. "Oh, where?" cried a dozen together.