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    guy. I can’t picture him pulling on a pair of tights, which is a pity,
    because he has great legs.”
    Perhaps he could be a friar.
    “Like Friar Tuck?” I said, brightening.
    26 Nancy Atherton
    Like a tall, well-built Friar Tuck. He wouldn’t have to wear hose if he
    dressed as a friar, because the long robe would conceal his legs. If Bill dressed
    as a friar, you could dress as a nun.
    “A nun?” I said blankly.
    Nuns were all the rage in medieval England, Lori. They were often
    well-bred and highly intelligent women who exercised a great deal of power.
    “But they wore . . . habits . . . didn’t they?” I said, with a moue
    of distaste. “Dull, plain, boring habits. I was thinking of wearing
    something more colorful. Like a wimple. Do you happen to know
    what a wimple is?”
    Nuns wear wimples, Lori, but they’re rarely colorful. The kind of wimple
    you have in mind is probably a tall, thin, cone-shaped hat with a length of
    fluttery fabric attached at the point.
    “That’s what I had in mind,” I confirmed. “Calvin said that noblewomen wore wimples. I can see myself as a noblewoman, can’t
    you?”
    Lady Lori? It has a certain ring to it.
    “A pirate maiden would be pretty cool, too,” I said. “I’ve always
    wanted to be a swashbuckler.”
    Pirate Lori has a definite ring to it.
    “Pirate Lori,” I murmured happily. “It’d be fun to brandish a
    saber and shout, ‘Avast, me hearties!’ ”
    I’d urge you to keep your saber safely in its sheath, unless you want to
    add the sport of ear-lopping to the fair’s roster of medieval activities.
    “Killjoy,” I retorted, putting my feet on the ottoman. “I’m not
    sure what I want to be, Dimity, but making up my mind will be half
    the fun. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be a noblewoman and a pirate and
    a gypsy.” I shivered with excitement. “I can’t wait for opening day!”
    It sounds as though you’re anticipating King Wilfred’s Faire with a
    great deal of plea sure, my dear.
    “Well,” I said reasonably, “it makes for a change, doesn’t it?”
    Is a change what you need right now?
    “I could do with one,” I replied, adding quickly, “but it’s not just
    me, Dimity. The villagers were electrifi ed by Calvin’s announcement.
    Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon
    27
    The roof nearly came off of the schoolhouse after he left. If you ask
    me, everyone’s a little bored with the usual summer routine.”
    I sense, however, that you’re more than a little bored.
    I took my lower lip between my teeth and looked up at Reginald. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the many blessings in my
    life, but honesty was almost always the best policy with Aunt Dimity, so I told her the truth.
    “I’m glad that something new is going to happen in Finch this
    summer,” I said. “Something unfamiliar. Something that wasn’t
    planned by Peggy Taxman. I haven’t had anything new and exciting
    to look forward to since Annelise got married.”
    Annelise got married nine days ago, Lori. You haven’t had enough time
    to become bored.
    “I’ve had eight years to become bored,” I countered. “Eight summers, anyway.”
    You’ve had seven summers, to be precise. You spent last summer in Colo-
    rado.
    “So I did,” I conceded. “And I had a grand time. I didn’t miss polishing the tea urns or changing the trash bin liners one bit.”
    I thought you cherished tradition.
    “I do, but you can have too much of a good thing.” I groaned impatiently. “Nothing ever changes in Finch. I’ve heard the same people talk about the same things for nearly a decade. It’s like being on
    a conversational treadmill.”
    May I remind you that another wedding will take place in September?
    You once described it as the fairy-tale wedding of the century. You can’t tell
    me that you’re not looking forward to Kit and Nell’s wedding.
    Kit Smith and Nell Harris were the most beautiful couple I’d
    ever known. Kit was the stable master at nearby Anscombe