They had enjoyed this band very much at the time.

But it was quite different when someone else was making the same kind of music.
Anthea understood now that Father had not been really heartless and unreasonable when he had told them to stop that infuriating din.
'What shall we sing ?' Cyril was asking.
'Sweet and low ?' suggested Anthea.
'Too soft--I vote for "Who will o'er the downs".

Now then--one, two, three.
'Oh, who will o'er the downs so free, Oh, who will with me ride, Oh, who will up and follow me, To win a blooming bride?
Her father he has locked the door, Her mother keeps the key; But neither bolt nor bar shall keep My own true love from me.' Jane, the alto, was missing, and Robert, unlike the mother of the lady in the song, never could 'keep the key', but the song, even so, was sufficiently unlike anything any of them had ever heard to rouse the Babylonian Court to the wildest enthusiasm.
'More, more,' cried the King; 'by my beard, this savage music is a new thing.

Sing again!' So they sang: 'I saw her bower at twilight gray, 'Twas guarded safe and sure.
I saw her bower at break of day, 'Twas guarded then no more.
The varlets they were all asleep, And there was none to see The greeting fair that passed there Between my love and me.' Shouts of applause greeted the ending of the verse, and the King would not be satisfied till they had sung all their part-songs (they only knew three) twice over, and ended up with 'Men of Harlech' in unison.

Then the King stood up in his royal robes with his high, narrow crown on his head and shouted-- 'By the beak of Nisroch, ask what you will, strangers from the land where the sun never sets!' 'We ought to say it's enough honour, like the dancer did,' whispered Anthea.
'No, let's ask for IT,' said Robert.
'No, no, I'm sure the other's manners,' said Anthea.