Margery, who had never been to any big town before, looked about her with delight and amazement as they rode towards the inn where Dobbin and Jock were to be left in the stables till the evening. The narrow streets were paved with cobble-stones, and lined with houses which compared with the little cottage at home, seemed to her marvellously grand and imposing. They were built of plaster and timber, with gables curiously carved, and as in many of them each story projected beyond the lower one, the top windows on either side of the streets were close together, so that opposite neighbours were near enough to shake hands. There was such a crowd that the horses had to walk very slowly, pushing their way amongst the people. Early as it still was, the whole city seemed to be awake and astir, and the noise was deafening. Carts clattered over the rough stones, their drivers shouting to the throng to make way. Boys whistled and screamed, whips cracked; mothers called to their children to keep close, and the whole crowd seemed to be moving in one direction. “They are going to Mikelgate; that’s where the first play begins,” called Colin, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh, father, make haste! We shall be late.” “Plenty o’ time! plenty o’ time!” declared Farmer Short. “Here we turn in, at the sign of the ‘Dragon.’ Pull Jock’s head round, mother!” They had now reached an archway, and following a procession of other horses and carts, they soon found themselves in the big courtyard of the inn, which had a wooden gallery upon which the living-rooms of the first floor opened, running along three sides of it. Above the gallery there was another story, surmounted by gabled roofs, with carvings upon them of curious birds and beasts and hobgoblins. The blue sky formed the ceiling over the courtyard. A stableman ran to lift Margery from Dobbin’s back, and then to help Mistress Short to dismount. Colin had slipped from the saddle by himself, and his father following him, went to see that the horses were as comfortably lodged as possible, for there were so many others that there was scarcely room for them all in the stables. The children waited impatiently till he reappeared, for they were to go on foot to the house of Mistress Harpham, near Mikelgate. “We shall be late! I know we shall be late!” Margery kept repeating till her mother bade her be quiet. “It will take at least an hour for the first play to reach the house of your Aunt Harpham,” she assured her. “It has but just begun at Mikelgate.” But Margery was not happy till, having pushed their way out of the throng in the courtyard, they found themselves on the way to their kinswoman’s dwelling.