will tell my mother when she comes home. Now, Phoebe, sing the rest
of the song with me, and think no more of such folly. [_Sings with_
Phoebe.

"This king, being a mind to make himself merry,
He sent for the Bishop of Canterbury.
'Good-morning, Mr. Bishop,' the king did say.
'Have you come here for to live or to die?'
To my down, down, down, derry down.

"'For if you can't answer to my questions three,
Your head shall be taken from your body;
And if you can't answer unto them all right,
Your head shall be taken from your body quite.'
To my down, down, down, derry down."

_Nancy_ (_wagging her head in time to the music_). I know some words
that go better with that tune.

_Phoebe._ What are they?

_Nancy._ Oh, I'm forbid to tell.

_Phoebe._ Who forbade you to tell, Nancy?

_Nancy._ The one who forbade me to tell, forbade me to tell who
told me.

_Olive._ Don't gossip, or you won't get your stints done before
mother comes home.