[Arry]

Gammer Boffin, Woody, and Hanson arrive . . .

Gammer Boffin turned her little cart into the lane leading down to the Inn and clucked at the pony to speed him up. ‘Step lively, Strawfoot!’ she called to him. ‘Don’t want to miss the party.’ She turned to her great grandsons, Woody, eleven years, and Hanson, five, who sat squirming on the seat next to her.

‘Seems old Strawfoot ain’t listenin’ tonight lads. He’s as slow as molasses in Afteryule!’ she cackled. ‘Might as well jump down, you two, and run and get Granny a nice comfortable chair, not to far from the food and drink, mind you.’ She watched as the two little boys jumped from the slow moving cart.

‘And see if you can find Gil, will you lads? Tell him Granny’d like to sit with him a spell.’ She watched as they ran off toward the gathered crowd of partygoers. With a sigh and another cluck of her tongue she turned Strawfoot toward the stable and let him amble along.

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Gil

Make a fool of yourself in love . . . the words seemed to echo about in his head as he walked to where Rowan stood, leaning against the end of a table near the casks of ale.

She watched him as he drew near, her eyes glancing at him with a hint of mischief over the rim of her mug. She scooted over, making room for him to lean against the table, too. He cleared his throat, intending to say something clever, but nothing came out. And suddenly his throat was parched, his tongue as dry as a bone.

He turned and raised his brows enquiringly at her; his hand going up toward his mouth as he mimed drinking. Not waiting for her to say ‘yes’, he took the mug from her hands and swallowed a big gulp.