SELWICK HALL, JANUARY YE VIII. Well! Twelfth Night is o'er, and the most of things 'stowed away, and all come back to our common ways. Sixty-eight guests had we, grown folk and childre, and I shall not essay, as I see _Edith_ hath done rarely, to set down all their names; only there were most of those that come on _Christmas_ Eve, but not Dr _Meade_ and his folks, he being bidden of my Lord _Dilston_. Much merriment was there a-drawing of king and queen, and it o'er, behold, _Dudley Murthwaite_ was King, and _Mother_ was Queen. So _Father_ (which had drawn the Chamberlain) right courtlily hands _Mother_ up to the throne, that was set at the further end of the great chamber, all laughing rarely to see how well 'twas done: and _Martha Rigg, Agnes Benson, Gillian Armstrong_, and our _Milly_, that had drawn the Maids of Honour, did dispose themselves behind her. Aunt _Joyce_ was Mother of the Maids, and she said she would have a care to rule them with a rod of iron. So she armed her with the poker, and shaked it at each one that tittered, till the most were a-holding of their sides with laughter. _Jack Lewthwaite_ drew the Chancellor, and right well he carried him. Ere their Majesties abdicated, and the Court dispersed, had we rare mirth, for Aunt _Joyce_ laid afore the throne a 'plaint of one of her maids for treason, which was _Gillian_, that could no way keep her countenance: and 'twas solemnly decreed of their Majesties, and ratified of the Chancellor, that the said prisoner be put in fetters, and made to drink poison: the which fetters were a long piece of silver lace that had come off a gown of _Mother's_, and the poison a glass of syllabub, which Mr Chancellor brought to the prisoner, that screamed and begged for mercy, but had it not--and hard work had _Gillian_ to beg for mercy, for she was laughing till she could scarce utter no words. Howbeit, this o'er, all we gathered around the fire, and played at divers sitting games. And as we were in the midst of "I love my love," and had but just finished R,-- afore _Margaret Benson_, that was next, could begin with S,--behold, a strange voice behind, yet no strange one, crieth out loud and cheery-- "I love my love with an S, because she is sweet; I hate her with S, because she is sulky: I took her to the sign of the _Ship_, and treated her to sprats and seaweed; her name is _Sophonisba Suckabob_, and she comes from _San Sebastian_." Well, we turned round all and looked on him that had spoke, but in good sooth not one of us knew the bright fresh face, until _Mother_ cries out,--"_Ned_! _Ned_, my boy!" and then, I warrant you, there was some kissing and hand-shaking, ay, more than a little. "Fleet ahoy!" saith _Ned_. "Haven't seen so many crafts in the old harbour, for never so long." "Why, _Ned_, hast thou forgot 'tis Twelfth Night?" says _Milly_. "So 'tis," quoth _Ned_. "Shall I dance you a hornpipe?"