A tin cup, brought to collect pence for the garland, glittered in the cart-rut at their feet.

It had rolled down the mossy bank as the girl's fingers relaxed in sleep.
They were two little ones of Troy, strayed hither from the merrymaking; and at first Miss Marty had a mind to wake them, seeing how near they lay to the river's brink.

But noting that a fallen log safeguarded them from this peril, she fumbled for the pocket beneath her skirt, dropped a sixpence with as little noise as might be into the tin cup, and tiptoed upon her way.
About three hundred yards from the village she met another pair of children; and, soon after, a score or so in a cluster, who took toll of her in pence; for almost everyone carried a garland.

And then the trees opened, and she saw before her the village with its cottages, grey and whitewashed, its gardens and orchards, mirrored in the brimming tide, all trembling in the morning light and yet exquisitely still.

Far up the river, beyond the village and the bridge, a level green meadow ran out, narrowing the channel; and here beneath the apple-trees--for the meadow was half an orchard--had been set out many lines of white-covered tables, at which the Mayers made innocently merry.
Innocently, did I say?
Well, I have known up-country folk before now to be scandalised by some things which we in the Duchy think innocent enough.