As she came out, she found her brother whistling the blithe air of “Green Sleeves,” cutting strange capers, in imitation of the morris-dancers, and whirling his cudgel over his head instead of a kerchief.  The gaiety of the day seemed infectious, and to have seized even him.  People stared to see Black Jem, or Surly Jem, as he was indifferently called, so joyous, and wondered what it could mean.  He then fell to singing a snatch of a local ballad at that time in vogue in the neighbourhood:—­

“If thou wi’ nah my secret tell,
Ne bruit abroad i’ Whalley parish,
And swear to keep my counsel well,
Ey win declare my day of marriage.”

“Cum along, lass,” he cried stopping suddenly in his song, and snatching his sister’s hand.  “What han ye getten there, lapped up i’ your kirtle, eh?”

“A white dove,” replied Jennet, determined not to tell him any thing about her strange dream.

“A white dove!” echoed Jem.  “Gi’ it me, an ey’n wring its neck, an get it roasted for supper.”

“Ye shan do nah such thing, Jem,” replied Jennet.  “Ey mean to gi’ it to Alizon.”

“Weel, weel, that’s reet,” rejoined Jem, blandly, “it’ll may a protty offering.  Let’s look at it.”

“Nah, nah,” said Jennet, pressing the bird gently to her bosom, “neaw one shan see it efore Alizon.”

“Cum along then,” cried Jem, rather testily, and mending his pace, “or we’st be too late fo’ t’ round.  Whoy yo’n scratted yourself,” he added, noticing the red spots on her sleeve.

“Han ey?” she rejoined, evasively.  “Oh now ey rekilect, it wos Tib did it.”

“Tib!” echoed Jem, gravely, and glancing uneasily at the marks.

Meanwhile, on quitting the cottage, the May-day revellers had proceeded slowly towards the green, increasing the number of their followers at each little tenement they passed, and being welcomed every where with shouts and cheers.  The hobby-horse curveted and capered; the Fool fleered at the girls, and flouted the men, jesting with every one, and when failing in a point rapping the knuckles of his auditors; Friar Tuck chucked the pretty girls under the chin, in defiance of their sweethearts, and stole a kiss from every buxom dame that stood in his way, and then snapped his fingers, or made a broad grimace at the husband; the piper played, and the taborer rattled his tambourine; the morris-dancers tossed their kerchiefs aloft; and the bells of the rush-cart jingled merrily; the men on the top being on a level with the roofs of the cottages, and the summits of the haystacks they passed, but in spite of their exalted position jesting with the crowd below.  But in spite of these multiplied attractions, and in spite of the gambols of Fool and Horse, though the latter elicited prodigious laughter, the main attention was fixed on the May Queen, who tripped lightly along by the side of her faithful squire, Robin Hood, followed by the three bold foresters of Sherwood, and her usher.