“Husks! Husks! A corn husking on the city green. Husks—husks—husks!” they cried.
But there was such a tumult that no one could well hear what they said, and presently they appealed to the carnival king to tell the people.
“Nay, O king, they hear us not for the noise of thy passing,” said they. “Prithee tell the people what we would say.”
“Tell the people, my little trumpeter!” cried the king, and lifted Peter to his lips.
And Peter shouted out with all his might.
“Husks! Husks! A corn husking on the city green. Husks—husks—husks!”
“Bravely done!” called the mountebanks, in delight, and ran alongside the car, leaping and tumbling and grotesquely showing their de- light. “Bravely done! Tell the people—bid the people come!”
So Peter called again, and yet again, at the full strength of his little voice. And it seemed to him that the people surely listened, and it was a delight and a flattery to be the one voice in the great procession, save only the music’s voice.
At last, for one moment it chanced that the
