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Hail and well-met, traveller!
Your face is new and your manner strange to us, but all are welcome in this, our village.
It is a time of celebration, when the summertime draws to a close and the tears of Saint Lawrence streak across the heavens. He was a champion of those whose shirts bore no lace, and whose pockets held little coin. So even in these times when the saints are forgotten, we still celebrate his feast day during our annual market faire.
It seems that not even the queen herself cannot resist our hospitality! Indeed, she has traveled far to our humble corner of England to sample it!
Come ye and dance with us upon the village green! Or if you've no desire to caper, sit for awhile and share a tale if you have one, or listen to one of mine if you do not.
As you wander the faire, pray sample the wares of the visiting merchants, be sure to visit the inn yonder and sample the brew. If you encounter one of our villagers on the path, stop and pass the time of day. I bid you fair warning, though, stranger; there be rogues and bawdy wenches about.
All the better you say?
Indeed. Methinks you will fit in just fine.
Good day and let us know if there is aught we can do to make your day at our faire more enjoyable!
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