Part 39 (2/2)
”Wouldn't it do to fill these with thy oyster compote, and so set them in the ashes to roast?” inquired she. ”Being many they can be laid at every man's place at table.”
”Why, 't is a n.o.ble idea, child,” exclaimed Priscilla eagerly. ”'T will be a novelty, and will set off the board famously. Say you not so, John?”
”Ay,” returned Alden, who was busily opening the oysters at her side.
”And more by token there is a magnificence in the idea that thou hast not thought on; for as at a great man's table the silver dishes each bear the crest of his arms, so we being Pilgrims and thus privileged to wear the scallop sh.e.l.l in our hats, do rather choose to display it upon our board.”
”Ah, John, thou hast an excellent wit--in _some_ things,” replied Priscilla with a half sigh which set the young fellow wondering for an hour.
By noon the long tables were spread, and still the sweet warm air of the ”Indian Summer” made the out-of-door feast not only possible but charming, for the gauzy veil upon the distant forest, and the marine horizon, and the curves of Captain's Hill, seemed to shut in this little scene from all the world of turmoil and danger and fatigue, while the thick yellow suns.h.i.+ne filtered through with just warmth enough for comfort, and the sighing southerly breeze brought wafts of perfume from the forest, and bore away, as it wandered northward, the peals of laughter, the merry yet discreet songs, and the mult.i.tudinous hum of blithe voices, Saxon and savage, male and female, adult and childish, that filled the dreamy air.
The oysters in their scallop sh.e.l.ls were a singular success, and so were the mighty venison pasties, and the savory stew compounded of all that flies the air, and all that flies the hunter in Plymouth woods, no longer flying now but swimming in a glorious broth cunningly seasoned by Priscilla's anxious hand, and thick bestead with dumplings of barley flour, light, toothsome, and satisfying. Beside these were roasts of various kinds, and thin cakes of bread or manchets, and bowls of salad set off with wreaths of autumn leaves laid around them, and great baskets of grapes, white and purple, and of the native plum, so delicious when fully ripe in its three colors of black, white, and red.
With these were plentiful flagons of ale, for already the housewives had laid down the first brewing of the native brand, and had moreover learned of the Indians to concoct a beverage akin to what is now called root beer, well flavored with sa.s.safras, of which the Pilgrims had been glad to find good store since it brought a great price in the English market.
It was during the last half hour of this feast that Desire Minter, who with the other girls served the tables where the men sat at meat, placed a little silver cup at Captain Standish's right hand saying,--
”Priscilla sends you some shrub, kind sir, of her own composition, and prays you drink her health.”
”Why, then, 't is kind of her who hath been most unkind of late,”
returned Myles, upon whose seasoned brain the constant potations of three days had wrought to lull suspicion and reserve, and taking the cup he tossed off its contents at a draught, and rising bowed toward Priscilla who was flitting in and out among the tables. She returned the salute with a little air of surprise, and Myles reseating himself turned to question Desire again, but she had departed carrying the cup with her.
”Nay, then, I'll be toyed with no longer,” muttered the Captain angrily, and although he bore his part in the closing ceremonies with which the governor bade a cordial and even affectionate farewell to the king, the prince, their n.o.bles, and their following, there was a glint in his eye and a set to his lips that would have told one who knew him well that the spirit of the man was roused and not lightly to be laid to rest again.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A LOVE PHILTRE.
The last pniese had made his uncouth obeisance and departed, and busy hands were removing all signs of the late commotion in haste that the setting sun should find the village ready for its Sunday rest and peace, when Myles Standish suddenly presented himself before Priscilla Molines as she came up from the spring with a pile of wooden trenchers in her hands.
”Mistress Molines a word with you,” began he with an unconscious imperiousness that at once aroused the girl's rebellious spirit.
”Nay, Captain, I am not of your train band, and your business must await my pleasure and convenience. Now, I am over busy.”
”Nay, then, if I spoke amiss I crave your pardon, mistress, and had we more time I would beat my brains for some of the flowery phrases I used to hear among the court gallants who came to learn war in Flanders. But I also have business almost as weighty as thine and as little able to brook delay. So I pray you of your courtesy to set down your platters on this clean sod, and listen patiently to me for a matter of five minutes.”
”I am listening, sir.”
”Nay, put down the platters or let me put them down.”
”There then, and glad am I”--
”Of what, mistress?”
”That I'm not often under thy orders, sir.”
”Ah! But we'll waste no time in skirmis.h.i.+ng, fair enemy. Tell me rather what didst mean by the loving-cup thou sendst me? May I take it sooth and truly as relenting on thy part?”
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