“What does the Tabard mean?” Betty asked, looking at the sign-board over the main door. “There’s something painted on that sign, but I don’t know what it is.” “It’s meant for a coat worn by a herald, and sometimes also by knights over their armour. Such a coat is called a _tabard_ in these fourteenth-century days. Now look well at this particular inn, because most of the other taverns are very like it, and this fashion of building lasted for years. In fact, there were some left in Southwark till quite lately, and even now there is just a corner of one still remaining. The inn you see follows three sides of this square courtyard. Look at the curiously-carved galleries running round two floors of it, and at the quaint gables above.” “How pretty it looks to see all the pilgrims walking and sitting about,” exclaimed Betty. “And how they are chattering and laughing!” She could have stayed for hours watching them and was sorry when presently they all remounted and with loud farewells to the jolly host of the Tabard, clattered out into the country road. “Just think what miles of dull streets they would have to ride through if they were riding to Canterbury in our time,” she said. “As it is,” said Godmother, “they’re in leafy lanes already, where the birds are singing and the banks are covered with wild flowers. That road they are taking to Canterbury, is still called the Pilgrim’s Way. The next time we take a country motor drive I’ll show you the continuation of it that runs over the green Surrey hills which by the end of the day those pilgrims will reach....” “What shall we do now?” Betty inquired when the long procession was out of sight. “Would you like to look on at a Miracle play?” “What is a Miracle play?” “Come and see. Fortunately there is one going on now at the Church of St. Margaret’s, not very far from St. Saviour’s.” “Is St. Margaret’s Church still standing? We didn’t see it this morning when we went in the car, did we?” “Not a stone of St. Margaret’s is left in our time. Some day you shall see all that there is now, to remind us of a church which in this fourteenth century is very celebrated for its Miracle plays. They don’t as a rule begin till Whitsuntide, but there happens to be a special performance because it’s May Day, and a general holiday.” “A play in a _church_?” exclaimed Betty. “Yes. Most of the acting in this fourteenth century, takes place either in churches, or in churchyards. Scarcely any of these people you see about you, can read, and so the priests and monks have hit upon the plan of teaching them the Bible stories by means of acting. Sometimes religious plays are performed inside the churches, but more often—as in the case of the one we are going to see—outside them, where there is more room for the people. There! isn’t that a curious sight?”