The fairgoers were an obstreperous crowd, however, and with Meg on the stage there was no one to keep order among them. One night they began to throw bread crusts and bones on the stage to make the lion roar. When Job flung them back, the audience was provoked to throw more garbage. Someone even tossed Piebald; Meg heard the cat yowling and felt his body thump against her wall. When someone jumped on the stage and stole Overby’s tin crown, the irate king cried, “I do not condone rebellion!” and declared all further performances of Pyramus cancelled. Now Will sat disconsolate, pondering ideas for a new play. Scraps of paper were spread out on the table before him. He groaned to see Violetta approaching. She seemed to relish distracting him. “Sad Thisbe greets proud Pyramus this moonlit morn,” she said, planting herself at his elbow. “Are you writing another play? Shall I be in it?” “Not if you insist upon being Thisbe still,” said Will without looking up. Violetta’s nearness confused him.
