whativer wor goin' on. I' th' har'st field, tha pu'd aboot th' yearn o' co'n, 'n tum'lcd mid th' stooble, 'n wrastled wi' th' poppie he'ads; an' i' th' spring o' th' year tha want to sha'akin' 'n pinchin' the tree-buds to mak' 'em come o'pen; an' tweakin' tha flower-buds, 'n cha'asin' th' butterfiees, 'n toogin' th' wo'ms oot o' th' yarth; alius pla'ayin' loike tomfools, but happy mischeevious bit creeturs, so long 's tha wor'nt crossed. Thou'd on'y to ho'd qui't 'n kep still 's de'ath an' thou'd see th' busy tiddy things rinnin' 'n pla'ayin' ahl roond tha.
Fo'ak thowt as tha Stra'angers he'ped th' co'n to ripen, an' ahl th' green things to grow'a; an' as tha p'inted th' purty colours o' th' flowers, an' th' reds 'n bra'owns o' th' fruit i' Yatum' an' th' yallerin' leaves. An' tha thowt 's how, ef tha wor fratched, th' things 'd dwine an' widder, an' th' har'st 'd fail, an' th' fo'ak go hungered. So tha did ahl's tha cud think on' to ple'ase th' tiddy people, an' kcp' friends wi' un. I' th' gy'ardens th' first flowers, 'n th' first fruit, 'n th' first cabbage, or what not, 'd be took to th' nighest flat sto'an, 'n laid theer fur tha Stra'angers; i' th' fields th' fust yearn o' co'n, or th' fust taters, wor guv to th' tiddy people; an' to ho'am, afore tha 'gun to y'eat their vittles, a bit o' bre'ad 'n a drop o' milk or beer, wor spilled o' th' fire place, to kep' th' greencoaties fro' hunger 'n thu'st. But 's toime went on th' foak growed so't o' careless. Tha want mappen more to th' cho'ch an' thowt less on th' Stra'angers, an' th' au'd wa'ays o' ther fa'athers afore un; tha furgot th' au'd ta'alcs as 'd bin towld 'em by thur gran'thers; or mebbe tha thowt tha wor got so wise as tha knowed better nor ahl th' fo'ak o' da'ays gone by. Annyways, an' hawiver 't coom, th' flat sto'ans o' th' Stra'angers wor bare, an' th' fust'lins o' th' yarth wor kep' ba'ack, an' th' vittles wor swallowed, wi' ne'er a crumb fur th' fire pla'ace; an' th' tiddy people wor left to look arter thersel's an' to hunger 'n thu'st as tha listed.
A reckon tha Stra'angers cudn't mak' 't oot to fu'st. Mebbe tha ta'alked it owcr 'mang thursel's, a cayn't sa'ay;
