I can feel the bumps on the crumbling path as we are trotting
to the Tudor times, I know I am going to hate it here.
As the horse halts I get sent out of the carriage to our
new old home.” “Straight away we get bossed around the
house with no greetings not even a smile.
I can hear the crying of the servant’s out working in the
fields, I really do feel sorry for the Tudor children.
The Bailiff is having a feast tonight to celebrate
Mary Ist’s birthday, they’ll be having grand food and all
I get is pottage-a kind of vegetable stew.
“The poor goose lays lots of eggs and its reward is
getting killed, I just don’t understand the Tudor times!”
By Alicia Hall and Eleanor Hall