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The old man stammered and fumbled. His piece of rote-learning gave him confidence, helped him to start. Now he hardly knew how to go on, but saved himself by remembering and repeating the last words: "Philida, phileridos, pamphilida, florida, flortos, rub-a-dub."

Then he took out of his belt a little wand, and pointed to the coat of arms upon the wall.

"Of all the noble and ancient families in the land there is none more noble or more ancient than the noble and ancient house of Alard. De Icklesham and de Etchingham were both proud families, but now they are under the crumbling stones. This silver shield stands for eternity, and these stars are Alard's shining sons that shall shine upon the world. That's when I speak for eternity, but when I speak for today I see great merrymaking—I see great fires and holly and chop-cherry and blindman's buff, and men and maids dancing round the Lord of Misrule. Ale and pies. There's plenty in Alard's kitchen, and none goes hungry—ale and pies for all. There's a maid's wedding too, and dancing for it and more ale—barrels of ale—and blessings on the bridal bed, and all according to religion. That's for the kitchen. Now let me speak for the hall. There's a wedding in the hall, a grand and noble wedding to a noble lord. That canton azure is blue blood—the bluest blood in the kingdom is proud to mate with Alard's noble lady. She leaves this noble hall to live in a noble castle and to be the mother of seven sons and seven daughters. A golden leopard's head. Simon Alard goes to the Crusades, and rides against the true religion. His sister rides to meet him, and they meet under the Cross . . ."