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me!" But the goose tripped and plunged her head into one of the precious glass vessels, and there was yet more flapping and flopping as Meggy frantically called, "Have done, Louise, have done! Put it down!"
    Louise could not put it down but, bemaddened by her head being stuck in the beaker, stumbled about the room, knocking into another stack of books, the chair, and assorted devices of strange design, Master Ambrose lumbering after her. He finally penned the goose into a corner but could not pull her head out of the beaker. Shouting "A pox on you, you beetle-brained fowl!" he grabbed one of Meggy's walking sticks and swung it sharply at the goose's head, breaking the beaker and freeing her. Shards of glass sprayed like drops of dew. Louise honked again and flapped her great wings mightily.
    "What creature is this?" Master Ambrose shouted. "What does it here?"
    "That be Louise," Meggy said. "She is not accustomed to being a house goose."
    Master Ambrose tore the cap from his head and threw it on the floor. "I wish not to see that bird," he shouted, "until it be roasted on a platter with onions and parsley!"
    "Nay, sir, nay." Meggy shook her head fiercely. "Louise be not supper. She is my—"
    "I care not. Hie it to a butcher," Master Ambrose said, "or I will dispatch it mine own self. Now leave my laboratorium."
    Laboratorium? More likely stinkatorium, Meggy thought. She took her stick from the man and, shooing Louise before her, left the attic room. As she made her slow and painful way down the stairs, she told the goose, "You have made no little trouble for yourself, Louise. And for me." Louise, indifferent to the tumult she had provoked, merely flapped her wings and honked as she followed Meggy down.

SIX
     
    Meggy peeped out the window onto Crooked Lane. She was sore afraid to venture back out into that London where she had been menaced by tradesmen, affrighted most grievously, and nearly dispatched by barbarous villains. But she could not ignore her father's threat to butcher Louise. What was she to do?
    As the goose searched through her feathers for a bug or a flea or some other treat, the girl watched her and smiled. Louise had been her true friend since Meggy had saved her from the ax long ago, when it was discovered that her wings were slipped. Louise had followed Meggy about the inn yard, listened to her stories and songs, shared berries in the summer and apples in the fall. The girl and the goose were companions in their aloneness, their lameness, and their bad temper.
    Meggy would save Louise if she could, but she feared disobeying Master Peevish. She would have to go back into the dust, mud, soot, slime, and smut of London. Roger had spoken of a butcher next to his lodgings on Pudding Lane. That was where they would go.
    "Louise," Meggy said, "you are a flap-mouthed nuisance, but what shall I do without you?" Ripping a strip of cloth from her undersmock, Meggy tied it around Louise's neck for a leash. She put on her cloak, took up her walking sticks, slipped her sack over one arm, and pulled Louise from the house. The goose honked in irritation.
    Could Meggy surrender Louise? She thought again of Master Peevish's anger. "Pray forgive me, Louise," Meggy told her. "It must be, but by my faith, I will miss you most fiercely."
    The rain had lessened, but still the afternoon was wet, with mist rising off the river. Shop signs swung and banged in the wind as Meggy and Louise turned from Crooked Lane to Fish Street Hill. The girl and the goose stood in the fragrant steam rising from an inn. Meggy sniffed deeply for a moment. But might it be the aroma of roast goose she enjoyed? Her shoulders slumped.
    "Pork pie, mistress," said a voice at her side. "Sweet with cinnamon and still hot from the baking." It was a girl, no bigger than Meggy, which meant she was very small indeed. And in the basket she carried were pies, brown of crust and fragrant. Meggy yet had the pennies Roger had given her, so she bought two pies. She