Cadurcis really thought it was the most delightful meal he had ever made in his life.  The flesh-pot held something besides turkeys.  Rough as was the fare, it was good and plentiful.  As for beverage, they drank humpty-dumpty, which is ale boiled with brandy, and which is not one of the slightest charms of a gipsy’s life.  When the men were satisfied, their platters were filled, and given to the women and children; and Beruna, with her portion, came and seated herself by Plantagenet, looking at him with a blended glance of delight and astonishment, like a beautiful young savage, and then turning to her female companions to stifle a laugh.  The flesh-pot was carried away, the men lit their pipes, the fire was replenished, its red shadow mingled with the silver beams of the moon; around were the glittering tents and the silent woods; on all sides flashing eyes and picturesque forms.  Cadurcis glanced at his companions, and gazed upon the scene with feelings of ravishing excitement; and then, almost unconscious of what he was saying, exclaimed, ’At length I have found the life that suits me!’

‘Indeed, squire!’ said Morgana.  ‘Would you be one of us?’

‘From this moment,’ said Cadurcis, ’if you will admit me to your band.  But what can I do?  And I have nothing to give you.  You must teach me to earn my right to our supper.’

‘We’ll make a Turkey merchant[A] of you yet,’ said an old gipsy, ‘never fear that.’

[Footnote A:  i.e. We will teach you to steal a turkey]

‘Bah, Peter!’ said Morgana, with an angry look, ’your red rag will never be still.  And what was the purpose of your present travel?’ he continued to Plantagenet.

‘None; I was sick of silly home.’

‘The gentry cove will be romboyled by his dam,’ said a third gipsy.  ’Queer Cuffin will be the word yet, if we don’t tout.’[A]

[Footnote A:  His mother will make a hue and cry after the gentleman yet; justice of the peace will be the word, if we don’t look sharp.]

‘Well, you shall see a little more of us before you decide,’ said Morgana, thoughtfully, and turning the conversation.  ‘Beruna.’

‘Ay! ay!  Morgana!’

’Tip me the clank, like a dimber mort as you are; trim a ken for the gentry cove; he is no lanspresado, or I am a kinchin.’[A]

[Footnote A:  Give me the tankard, like a pretty girl.  Get a bed ready for the gentleman.  He is no informer, or I am an infant.]

‘Ay! ay!  Morgana’ gaily exclaimed the girl, and she ran off to prepare a bed for the Lord of Cadurcis.

CHAPTER XV.