each guild occupied by itself. A
little stream ran through the meadow, and upon its waters boats were
continually being rowed, full of laughing men and women, girls and
boys. As each new guild disembarked, it planted its colours.
Refreshment stands were all about, and apprentices and journeymen were
having great sport.

The apprentices and girls began a fine dance, while the people kept
landing at the dock and coming from their boats.

There came the bakers, the tailors, and the smiths; then the informal
gaiety came to a sudden pause and the cry went up that the great
Mastersingers themselves had arrived. They disembarked and formed a
long procession, Kothner going ahead bearing the banner, which had the
portrait of King David and his harp upon it.

At sight of the banner all waved their hats, while the Masters
proceeded to their platform.

When they had reached their place, Pogner led Eva forward, and at the
same moment Hans Sachs arrived and again all waved and cheered loudly.
Eva took the place of honour, and behind them all was--Beckmesser,
wildly struggling to learn his great song. He kept taking the
manuscript from his pocket and putting it back, sweating and mumbling,
standing first on one of his sore feet and then upon the other, a
ridiculous figure, indeed.

At length, Sachs stood up and spoke to those who had welcomed him so
graciously.

"Friends, since I am beloved of thee, I have one favour to ask. The
prize this day is to be a unique one, and I ask that the contest be
open. It is no more than fair, since so much is to be won. I ask that
no one who shall ask for a chance to sing for this fair prize be
denied. Shall this be so?"

While he waited for an answer, every one was in commotion.

"Say, Marker," he asked of Beckmesser, "is this not as it should be?"

That rascal was wiping his face from which the sweat was streaming and
trying in despair to conquer the knight's song.

"You know you need not sing that song unless you wish," Hans reminded
him, aside.

"My own is abandoned, and now it is too late for me to make another,"
Beckmesser moaned; "but with you out of the contest--well, I shall
surely win with anything. You must not desert me now."

"Well, let it be agreed," Hans cried aloud, "that the contest shall be
open to all; so now begin."

"The oldest first," Kothner cried, thus calling attention to the age
of Beckmesser. "Begin, Beckmesser," another shouted.

"Oh, the devil," Beckmess