A Woman. _(holding up a baby)_ What's for your baby boy, Good-man? All Women. Say--a--a--a--ay! Men. Bawbles and milk and a robe of silk, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay! A Woman. _(pointing to the Squire)_ What have you got for She, Good-man? All Women, _(pointing to the Squire)_ Say--a--a--a--ay! Men. _(stooping as if to carry a burden)_ Why, sheaf and stack, and a weary back, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay! CHORUS. Everybody. Bread in the oven, milk in the can, And wood for the winter fire! Fire-ire-ire! A broken back for the husbandman, And golden corn for the Squire! Squire-ire-ire! _(At end of Chorus a young girl comes from the crowd and presents Kate with a basket of fruit and flowers. Kate kisses her--the girl returns.)_ {Gun.} Squire Verity, it was my desire for to have been took down in my words by Mercury. Mercury, however, is _non composite_, as the saying goes. {Villagers.} More shame for him! {Gun.} But what I have to tell you is this here, Squire; the men wish you a better harvest next harvest than this harvest--as much 'ops and more wheat and barley, not to say hoats. {Villagers.} Hear, hear! {Gun.} The women wish you a good husband, who'll love you and protect you and put a load o' money into the land, and have all the cottages well white-washed. {Villagers.} Hear! Hear! {Gun.} And lastly--if the parson will allow me that word--lastly, we all wish you may live amongst us long and happy until you're an octo--an octo--an octagon. I'm sorry _Mercury_ can't take me down. {Villagers.} Bravo, Gunnion! Well spoken, very good! _(Kate rising--with her hand on the little Child's head--Felicity puts stool bach, and stands by Kate taking her hand and kissing it at end of speech.)_ {Kate.} My dear friends, you are kinder to me than I deserve, which makes me very pained at what I have to tell you. You and I, who have been together for so many years, and who have loved one another so much, have to part company. {Villagers.} _(murmur)_ What! {Gun.} Part company! You don't mean to say you're going to put more machinery in the land, Squire? {Kate.} I mean that I am going away from Market- Sinfield, perhaps never to come back. {Villagers.} Oh, what will become of us? _(a murmur from the Women)_ {Kate.} The lands will be worked by a richer farmer, and you and your homes will be the gainers. {Villagers.} No, that they won't! _(they shake their heads)_ {Kate.} But what I ask of you, is--don't forget me--