He was tight asleep in his own little cradle, that had served two generations of children, when Ruzena heated some food that her mother had prepared, put it into a pail, filled a jug with fresh water, and started with these for the hay-field. Some of the mowers were still being followed by barefoot women and girls in bright-colored skirts, who tossed the hay over their heads and shoulders. Others were already sitting and lunching in the shade of the lumbrous wagons. Large cream-colored oxen, with very long horns, stood unyoked near by. Ruzena's mother returned home with her daughter, for neighbors had come over to help, and although she had baked all the day before, she felt anxious lest something should be lacking on the supper table. It was just getting dusk when the sound of singing, not boisterous, but low and sweet, came from the road and announced the hay-makers. With their heads crowned with grain, they walked beside or stood in the clumsy wagons drawn by sleepy-looking oxen with poppies and corn flowers wound around their horns. How good the things did taste after the hard work! Ruzena helped her mother wait on the guests, and as a treat, was allowed to go with them to the tavern where they danced their own national dances until the church bell rang out midnight. CHAPTER VI VILLAGE INCIDENTS "R-R-R-RUB-RUB-RUB!" went the little drum beaten by the bailiff as he stalked through the village. Every one hurried to door or window to learn what the news might be. It would not have created much stir in a city, but it did create quite a stir in the double row of houses. "Beran's cow, in your very next village," announced the bailiff, "stepped into a hole and broke her leg at noon to-day, so that she had to be killed. If you want fresh meat, here's your chance." When the bailiff had gone from end to end of the street and back again shouting the news, he was surrounded by people anxious to know the particulars: just where the accident had occurred; how the cow happened to step into the hole; who first found it out; who killed her; and many other things. Almost every one wanted some of the meat, and several of the men set out that very evening to secure a share. The next day Ruzena drove the geese to pasture in the hay stubble where they were always taken that no grain might be wasted, when the hay was already in the barn waiting to be threshed. When she returned, she found that a wandering tinker with mousetraps, rolls of wire and mending material slung over his back, was making his yearly visit.