“‘Why, don’t ’ee hear the music over there?’ says Tom; but ’twas hard to hear anythin’ the way the folks was a-talkin’ and a-laughin’; and what wi’ the shootin’, and the knockin’ down cocoa-nuts, and the roundabouts all a-playin’ different tunes at the same time, and the showmen shoutin’, and the drums a-beatin’, the noise was enough to dather a body.

“‘Take my arm,’ says Tom; and Annie did pair off with her young man, and Rose did catch hold o’ ’Neas as bold as brass, though he looked a bit glum, I can tell ’ee, for ’twere me as he wanted, d’ye see? And poor John were left all alone. I were feelin’ vexed, I suppose, but now, when I do look back on that day, it do seem to I as if I must ha’ been mad. My mother ’ud ha’ scolded if she’d a-known how I did behave that day. First I did go in the roundabout wi’ Tom, and then I did have another ride wi’ ’Neas, and there was Rose a-lookin’ on very cross, for Tom wouldn’t treat her; and the crosser she did look the more I did toss my head and laugh and talk wi’ ’Neas, and then ’twas Tom’s turn to pull a long face.

Pastorals of Dorset — Part 70

“And then I did go wi’ Tom in the swings, and then we did all have a game at Aunt Sally, and I did win; and ’Neas gi’ed me a bagful o’ ginger-nuts, and Tom a box for pins, and Annie’s young man come sidlin’ up too, and says he, ‘I must gi’e ye something too, Maria, for I do think,’ says he, ‘as you be queen of the fair’. And he did buy me a lot o’ sticky sweet stuff as I took one bite on and then dropped when he weren’t a-lookin’. But ye should ha’ seed Annie’s face. ‘I think I’ll go and look for John,’ says she, and her two eyes did shine much like cat’s eyes in the dark; but she didn’t go arter John, all the same.

Pastorals of Dorset — Part 70

“Well, we did come at last to one o’ the booths where they were a-sellin’ china stuff: mugs, and vases, and teapots, and cups, and plates, and as we stopped to look at ’em the old woman as was a-sellin’ did hold up the rosy plate, and says she to I, ‘Do ’ee buy en, my maid. The flowers be jist the same colour as they purty cheeks o’ yourn. You be a real rose, for sure,’ she did say, ‘and you did ought to have the rosy plate.’

Pastorals of Dorset — Part 70

“I put my hand in my pocket, and pulled out my handkercher, for I’d a-tied up my dibs in the corner. My mother did gi’e me eightpence to buy fairin’s wi’, but I hadn’t naught but a ha’penny left.