The forgetful and placid Wrig (I afterwards learned that this is a Scots word for the youngest bird in the nest) was seated on the grass, with her fat hands full of pink thyme and white wild woodruff. The sun shone on her curly flaxen head. She wore a dark blue cotton frock with white dots, and a short-sleeved pinafore; and though she was utterly useless from a dramatic point of view, she was the sweetest little Scotch dumpling I ever looked upon. She had been tried and found wanting in most of the principal parts of the ballad, but when left out of the performance altogether she was wont to scream so lustily that all Crummylowe rushed to her assistance. “Now let us practise a bit to see if we know what we are going to do,” said Sir Apple-Cheek. “Rafe, you can be Sir Patrick this time. The reason why we all like to be Sir Patrick,” he explained, turning to me, “is that the lords o' Noroway say to him-- 'Ye Scottishmen spend a' our King's gowd, And a' our Queenis fee'; and then he answers,-- '“Ye lee! ye lee! ye leers loud, Fu' loudly do ye lee!”' and a lot of splendid things like that. Well, I'll be the king,” and accordingly he began:-- 'The King sits in Dunfermline tower, Drinking the bluid-red wine. “O whaur will I get a skeely skipper To sail this new ship o' mine?”' A dead silence ensued, whereupon the king said testily, “Now, Dandie, you never remember you're the eldern knight; go on!” Thus reminded, Dandie recited:-- 'O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the King's right knee: “Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea.”' “Now I'll write my letter,” said the king, who was endeavouring to make himself comfortable in his somewhat contracted tower. 'The King has written a braid letter And sealed it with his hand; And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand.' “Read the letter out loud, Rafe, and then you'll remember what to do.” '“To Noroway! to Noroway! To Noroway o'er the faem! The King's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis thou maun bring her hame,”' read Rafe. “Now do the next part!” “I can't; I'm going to chuck up that next part. I wish you'd do Sir Patrick until it comes to 'Ye lee! 'ye lee!'” “No, that won't do, Rafe. We have to mix up everybody else, but it's too bad to spoil Sir Patrick.” “Well, I'll give him to you, then, and be the king. I don't mind so much now that we've got such a good tower; and why can't I stop up there even after the ship sets sail and look out over the sea with a telescope? That's the way Elizabeth did the time she was king.” “You can stay till you have to come down and be a dead Scots lord. I'm not going to lie there as I did last time, with nobody but the Wrig for a Scots lord, and her forgetting to be dead!”