"Maids in your smocks Look well to your locks And beware of the fox When the bellman knocks." Hazel (not without some fumbling, for her hands were still trembling) drew the bolts, lifted the latch, and flung the door wide open. A sudden gust of wind extinguished her candle, so they could not see the face of the messenger. He began speaking in a shrill, expressionless voice, like that of a child repeating a lesson: "I have given the pass-word, so you know from whom I come. I am to bid you go at once to Lud-in-the-Mist, and find a sailor, by name Sebastian Thug--he will probably be drinking at the tavern of the Unicorn--also a deaf-mute, commonly known as Bawdy Bess, whom you will probably find in the same place. You will have need of no other introduction than the words, By the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Golden Apples of the West. You are to tell them that there is to be no more rioting, and that they are to keep the people quiet, for the Duke will send his deputy. And next you will go to Master Ambrose Honeysuckle and bid him remember the oath which he and Master Nathaniel pledged each other over wild-thyme gin, swearing to ride the wind with a loose rein, and to be hospitable to visions. And tell him that Lud-in-the-Mist must throw wide its gates to receive its destiny. Can you remember this?" "Yes," said Hazel in a low puzzled voice. "And now just a trifle to the messenger for his pains!" and his voice became gay and challenging. "I am an orchard thief and the citizen of a green world. Buss me, green maid!" and before Hazel had time to protest he gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and then plunged into the night, leaving the echoes of his "Ho, ho, hoh!" like a silvery trail in his wake. "Well, I never did!" exclaimed Mistress Ivy in amazement, adding with a fat chuckle, "It would seem that it isn't only this side of the hills that saucy young fellows are to be found. But I don't quite know what to make of it, my girl. How are we to know he really comes from the Mayor?" "Well, auntie, we can't know, of course, for certain--though, for my part, I don't think he was a Dorimarite. But he gave the pass-word, so I think we must deliver the messages--there's nothing in them, after all, that could do any harm." "That's true," said Mistress Ivy. "Though I'm sure I don't want to go trudging into Lud at this time of night on a fool's errand. But, after all, a promise is a promise--and doubly so when it's been given to somebody as good as dead." So they put on their pattens and cloaks, lighted a lanthorn, and started off to walk into Lud, as briskly as Mistress Ivy's age and weight would allow, so as to get there before the gates were shut. Master Ambrose, as a Senator, would give them a pass to let them through on the way back.