Part 1

           WhenthefairgoldmorningofAprilstirredMaryHawleyawake,sheturnedovertoherhusbandandsawhim,littlefingerspullingafrogmouthather.

           "You’resilly,"shesaid."Ethan,you’vegotyourcomicalgenius."

           "Ohsay,MissMousie,willyoumarryme?"

           "Didyouwakeupsilly?"

           "Theyear’sattheday.Theday’satthemorn."

           "Iguessyoudid.Doyourememberit’sGoodFriday?"

           Hesaidhollowly,"ThedirtyRomansareformingupforCalvary."

           "Don’tbesacrilegious.WillMarulloletyouclosethestoreateleven?"

           "Darlingchicken-flower—MarulloisaCatholicandawop.Heprobablywon’tshowupatall.I’llcloseatnoontilltheexecution’sover."

           "That’sPilgrimtalk.It’snotnice."

           "Nonsense,ladybug.That’sfrommymother’sside.That’spiratetalk.Itwasanexecution,youknow."

           "Theywerenotpirates.Yousaidyourself,whalers,andyousaidtheyhadlettersofwhat-you-call-itfromtheContinentalCongress."

           "Theshipstheyfiredonthoughttheywerepirates.AndthoseRomanG.I.’sthoughtitwasanexecution."

           "I’vemadeyoumad.Ilikeyoubettersilly."

           "Iamsilly.Everybodyknowsthat."