In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century,Ⓐalteration in the MS a boy was born to a poorⒶalteration in the MS family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English child was born to a richⒶalteration in the MS family of the name of Tudor, who did want him. All England wanted him, too. England had so longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him,Ⓐalteration in the MS that now that he was really come, the people went nearlyⒶalteration in the MS mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged and kissed each other and cried; everybody took a holiday, and high and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced, and sang, and got very mellowⒶalteration in the MS—and they kept this up for days and nights together. ByⒶalteration in the MS day, London was a sight to see, with gay banners waving from every balcony and house-top, and splendid pageants marching along. By night it was again a sight to see, with its great bonfires at every corner and its troops of revelers making merry around them. There was no talk in all England but of the new baby, [begin page 48] Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not knowing that great lords and ladies were tending him and watching over him—and not caring, either. But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty,Ⓐalteration in the MS lapped in his poor rags, except among the family of paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his presence.
