((Rotherhithe Park. Event. Open to Everyone.))

The part had been quiet, and would be again the next morning. Just now, though, the three-square block area was covered in small tents and showing-areas, with one large tent in the centre. It was not the grandest of affairs, certainly nothing compared to the Carnivale that denizens of London had become accustomed to. In fact, several of the early arrivals sniffed at the small size and relative humble feeling of the thing...but it was a small, family-fun circus with no pretensions to be anything more.

Surrounding the larger, performance-tent were smaller tents, hastily constructed booths promising taffy-apples and a cigar to the man who knocked down all three milk-bottles with a thrown ball and, back by the livery stable, about a half-dozen caravans that looked as if they could use another coat of paint or two.

But all the marvels promised by the Brothers Farraday (though not as astonishing as the Carnivale, of course) would be revealed that evening, as they had the last three nights, and would for a week or so longer. Trick-riding, a strong man, booths and games...allof it, come nightfall, would light up, and then - a sign promised - the wonders would begin.