In Maytime | Page 3

forget the cloaks for the band, Elizabeth, -- and do all
of you remember that no one is to wear patent leather shoes!"
She seized her marshal's staff and departed.
III
When Timothy arrived at the Bryn Mawr station, that afternoon, he
found himself in the centre of a dense crowd, which was surging up the
road. He had no liking for crowds, and avoided them on all occasions.
It annoyed him intensely to be surrounded by indiscriminate numbers
of chattering people, pushing against him, and pressing him along with
them. In spite of his efforts to maintain his usual dignified carriage, he
was swept along at a fairly rapid pace, through a gateway, and up a
long path to the side of a low stone arch; through which appeared a
vista of gleaming white road and green trees.
At Haverford when the familiar Cricket Club came in sight, Timothy
had come to a sudden realization of the trick his friends had played him.
And when every one trooped out of the train at Bryn Mawr, he had
decided to yield to curiosity and make the best of a bad situation. But it
was in no genial mood that he approached the college. And now he
almost wished he had taken the next train back, to vent his anger on
those three friends.
He was sandwiched in between two stout ladies, one of whom poked
him in the neck with her parasol, while the other explained the details
of Mary's costume, just completed the day before, by the maternal
sewing-machine. Timothy correctly protected his necktie from the
parasol's advances. Taking out his eyeglass, he assumed his most
extreme expression of bored indifference, hoping to indicate to every
one around him that he, at least, was not here willingly for a day's
holiday, and anticipated no diversion whatever from anything
forthcoming. The thought of himself, Timothy Trask, inside a woman's
college, waiting by the roadside for a circus procession, was enough to
make. him grit his teeth, and swear at the three idiots who had been

instrumental in sending him there.
Suddenly a hush fell upon the expectant crowd. With a blast upon their
shining trumpets, eight heralds appeared in Pembroke archway, dressed
in white and gold, with the Pembroke coat-of-arms emblazoned upon
their breasts. Behind came lumbering along four oxen, great, patient
beasts, decked out with leaves and branches, dragging the May-pole.
Some mighty forest-giant had been sacrificed to these revels. It was
painted white, and festooned with garlands. A line of flower girls
trooped along on either side, flowers in their arms, on their short
gay-coloured skirts, and adorning their wide hats.
Laughter rippled down the line of spectators, as through the archway
came nine donkies, one behind another, solemnly bearing the famous
Nine Worthies of Old English pageant. Odds, my life, we find ourselves
in high company! Here is Julius C¾sar, clad in scarlet, with a truly
Roman nose, and behind him King Solomon, in all his purple glory,
while Sir Godfrey de Bouillon, that virtuous knight, brings up the rear
on a most restive steed. Next, mounted on a high cart, came the
maidens of Spring, fighting their old battle with grey-coated Winter.
That is right, pelt him with flowers, and cover his snowballs. He has no
place to-day.
It seemed as if Pembroke Arch were a gateway to the past, and jovial
Old England were pouring through it.
Now came the ring of horses' hoofs upon the stone paving. Make way,
there, for Maid Marian, the Queen of the May, with Robin Hood, that
gallant and sturdy rogue, riding by her side! There followed all his
merry men, come from the shades of Sherwood to join in the revels, for
what true yoeman will not trip a measure with a pretty maid, when the
sun shines on May-day? Behind came the fool, in motley red and
yellow, bells upon his two long ears, bells upon every point of his skirt
and cape, bells upon the sceptre which he shook above his head. Happy
fool, with light feet and lighter heart! Treading close on his heels the
Hobby-horse was showing his paces. For the most part he walked along,
sedately enough, saving his breath to curvet and prance, later on, in the
Revesby Sword Plaie.

With music and laughter the pageant moved on, a train of shepherds
with softly bleating sheep, milkmaids, peddlers, ballad-mongers, and
last of all, mounted upon a float, a strange company indeed. They were
dressed in classic Grecian folds prepared to act in The Excellent
Pastoral of The Arraignment of Paris. Cupid is proverbially abroad on
May-day, but here he stood, in actual guise, and Pan, too, playing his
pipes, and stately Minerva, with her snaky shield.
The pageant wound in and out, around the