[…] he was […] carried to the Scaffold on the Tower-hill […], himself praying all the way, and recording upon the words which he before had read.

If so, you will probably sign a contract with a caterer months, maybe years, in advance and make a substantial down payment.

He was led about by a brisk, middle-aged woman, in straw hat and wooden shoes; and a little barefooted boy, with clear, blue eyes and flaxen hair, held a tattered hat in his hand, in which he collected eleëmosynary sous.

We drive on between meadows of mown grass, through a pergola of vines, and so to an orchard of peaches, apples, and pears and a hen colony housed in neat modern cottages, the chickens clacking and scratching away […]