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CHAPTER ONE:

Whitsunday

Someone threw a stone or a spoiled fruit at the man perched atop thehis cap fro ruesture of frustration, and continued tying the sashes to the rings crowning the maypole One by one, the colorful sashes tumbled down

“He al

Lia could not help grinning “Every year someone tries to knock him down Every year What would happen if they did? He would probably break his neck and then there would be no dancing”

“Maybe that is why the boys do it”

“Not all of the What color sash do you want, Sowe?”

“It does notto ask me to dance” Her shoulders drooped Dark hair veiled part of her face

“Only if you hide up here in the loft If you go to the maypole, someone will dance with you I know it”

“I do not think so”

“Thinking that will surely make it so”