Then one of the women, in a voice shaken with fear, sang alone: “I lull my child wondrously sweet, And in my arms I do it keep, Because that it should not cry.” And another replied, calling on the new-born King: “That Babe that is born in Bethlehem so meek, He save my child and me from villainy.” Yet another said: “Be still! be still! my little child! That Lord of lords save both thee and me; For Herod hath sworn with words wild That all young children slain they shall be.” Now the soldiers come rushing forward with drawn swords, and though Colin assured her that it was only pretence, Margery could not look while they grasped the screaming women by the arms or by the hair and snatched their little baby-boys away from them. In vain the poor mothers struggled and implored. Their children were all killed, and presently the soldiers went away to fetch “wains and wagons” on which to heap the little bodies. “I suppose they are only dolls?” Margery asked anxiously; but though Master Gyseburn reassured her, she could not bear the sound of the screams and the shouting. It was a relief when all the women went sobbing away, and the herald stood once more before King Herod, and addressed him: “Herod, king! I shall thee tell, All thy deeds is come to naught. This Child is gone into Egypt to dwell, Lo, sir, in thine own land what wonders byn [have been] wrought.” Margery sympathized deeply with the herald’s indignant tone. “He’s killed all the babies, and it was no good after all!” she exclaimed. “He’s the wickedest and the most horrid man I ever saw! Look at him ‘raging’ again! What is he going to do now? See! the servants are getting his horse ready.” “He’s going to ride into Egypt to see if he can find the three kings, to put them to death,” said Master Gyseburn. “But he won’t!” observed Colin with much satisfaction. “There he goes riding through the crowd, still storming. Now he’s out of sight—and a good thing too.” The last they saw of Herod was his huge sword brandished aloft; and the last sound they heard was his foolish voice raised in anger. IX At the End of the Day The children had been so absorbed and interested in the last play, which was a long one, that when the pageant was wheeled away, they were surprised to find the market-place all glowing in the light of sunset. Little pink clouds like feathers were floating in the sky, across which flights of birds were winging their way to nests in the trees round the city. “Giles will soon be home!” said Mistress Harpham. “If there’s time for one more play this evening I shall be mistaken. It will soon be dark.” “Do they stop when it gets dark?” asked Margery.