Anya eyed Dawn with much suspicion. "Just because you know my name doesn't mean you get in for free," she told the teenager sternly. "You could have read it in the program: 'Anya, Keeper of the Coin and Lady-In-Waiting to the Queen'. Not that I'm too happy about that last part, nice as the Queen might be." Suddenly, Anya's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait, you have a program? Did you pay for it?"

With a brisk shake of her head, Dawn denied the very suggestion and spread her arms wide, showing them to be empty and program-free. "Well then," Anya continued, gesturing grandly to the stack of booklets on the narrow counter, "you can purchase one here. When you buy a ticket." She smiled brightly in anticipation.

Dawn's mouth opened and closed silently, unsure of how to respond, when a figure suddenly appeared from around the side of the entrance booth. "Giles!" Dawn exclaimed with a sigh of tangible relief.

"Anya," stated Giles reprovingly, tucking his clipboard under one arm, "didn't we discuss how to be courteous to patrons?"

"They're only patrons when they pay," she pointed out, glaring at Dawn.

Giles shook his head in desperation and turned to the teenager with an encouraging smile. "Have you come to enjoy an afternoon of medieval delight? O-Or are you here to sign-up as a performer?" He held up his clipboard and ran a forefinger down the list held there. "Several people haven't checked in yet. Perhaps you're one of those?"

"I'm Dawn," the teenager replied simply.

"A volunteer, perhaps?" Giles continued. Taking note of Dawn's confusion, he flipped to another page and scanned the length of the list. "No ‘Dawn' listed here," he regretfully informed.

Anya beamed and once more thrust out her hand, jerking her head at the ‘Pay Here' sign.

At Dawn's deflated expression, Giles stepped between the teenager and Anya, blocking the latter from view and ignoring the irritated "Hey!" that followed. "Perhaps you'd like to take a look around inside?" he suggested. "A brief tour? Help you decide whether you'd like to take part?"

"She can take a look around when she pays!" an indignant voice came from behind him, causing Giles to shoot a glance of pure irritation over his shoulder.

"You know the Queen wouldn't want to charge for a brief tour," he insisted, his tone of voice making it clear the matter was closed. There were bitter, unhappy rumblings emanating from the booth, but no further complaints, and Giles turned back to the teenager with a smile.

"I'm looking for the wren," Dawn told him. "I think it's lost."

Giles nodded encouragingly. "Many birds to be found in the Sherwood Forest area," he suggested. "Perhaps you'll find it there."

With that, Giles buried his head once more in the clipboard and returned the way he had appeared from around the corner of the booth. Dawn took one step after him, then cast a worried eye at the kiosk. She needn't have been concerned, however – Anya was holding the money pouch next to her ear and jingling it in time to a beat heard only in the woman's head. Her eyes were closed in an expression of pure pleasure, and she no longer seemed bothered with, or even aware of Dawn's presence.

The teenager seized the opportunity to slip through the small gap at the side of the booth.

"Which way is—" she began as she emerged on the other side, but Giles had disappeared, presumably having gone through one of the three arches cut into a rampart of granite. A trio of heralds sat atop the lofty wall. They appeared bored and their clarions dangled idly in their hands, as though waiting for the command to blow a trump. They ignored Dawn as she entered the festival's marbled forecourt through the center arch.

She was immediately met by a combination of intriguing sights and delicious aromas. She noticed the Apothecary Shoppe mentioned by Anya on her right, but a sign on the door informed her that "The Doctor Is Out." Directly across from the Apothecary Shoppe was the Sheriff's Sentry Box. Several of the guards, dressed in bright navy doublets and sporting crossbows, lounged outside. The group stood to attention and saluted as a tall, dark-skinned man rounded a corner. None of them paid Dawn any mind.

She stared at all the hawkers peddling their wares: a baker with a large tray of sultana muffins hanging around his neck; a youth offering spiced doughnuts which he held out on a sturdy pole; and a young woman, her blonde hair arranged in tight ringlets and attired in a low-cut gown which showed far too much of her ample bosom, apparently willing to sell kisses if the price was right. Dawn blinked at the confusion and seemed to be wondering which direction she should take. Then, she noticed a signpost at the far edge of the forecourt that read: "This Way to the Market Square." The arrow pointed toward a planked sidewalk. It appeared to be the only choice available to her.

Dawn meandered along the wooden street of makeshift stores displaying their merchandise. With wide eyes, she maneuvered through the sizable crowds, admiring the almost innumerable treasures available at every turn. She peered with wonder at stained glass light catchers, accepted free samples of roasted nuts, and politely declined an offer extended by one merchant to enter his establishment and fondle his baubles.

Deeply engrossed in the marvels of the festival, Dawn nearly collided with a man in feudal costume, obviously meant to be some type of peasant. A brown rat was perched on his shoulder, twitching its whiskers curiously. Dawn was equally as curious and wriggled a finger in the rodent's direction. The twitchy creature scrabbled around the serf's neck and perched warily on the other shoulder. Startled, Dawn took a step backward as the man offered the rat a wedge of cheese. The peasant regarded the teenager from behind his thick spectacles.

"Can you aid me, fair lady?" he questioned. "This used to be my daughter until she was turned into a rat by an evil sorceress." He blinked back the tears. Shaking her head apologetically, Dawn was nearly sent sprawling to the ground by the sudden appearance of a figure shrouded in a heavy cloak of black wool.

"Looking for help, mate— I mean, my good man?" inquired the new arrival. The teenager turned and then gaped as the hood slipped to reveal a shock of platinum hair. A hand thrust past bearing a small card that read: 'William, Seeker of Fortune. Have halberd will travel. No job too small or too large.' The blond mercenary winked at the teenager before turning his attention to the peasant. "Come on. Wossit gonna be? Got places to go."

The man beckoned the blond to one side. "It's all part of the act," he whispered, indicating the rat, which was now squeaking repeatedly – either with delight or disgust, it was difficult to tell – as it sniffed at the cheese held between its tiny paws. "This isn't really my daughter."

"Really," William replied in flat voice. "Because the resemblance is uncanny."

He snatched the card from the serf's fingers and began to saunter away, his long cloak dragging in the dust. He crossed to a tavern, presumably known as 'The Shining Son' given its swaying sign, and disappeared into the sea of bodies milling around the entrance.

With an expression of total confusion, Dawn looked up and down the wooden walkway. Her eyes widened with appreciation when she noticed a beautiful square-necked dress of dark green velvet suspended from a hook outside one of the stalls. Peeking inside, she was greeted with a magnificent array of appropriate clothing – gowns with flowing trumpet sleeves and waistcoats sporting elaborate embroidery. Noting her interest, the proprietress stepped forward. She herself was attired impeccably for the period, even down to the tiny red rosebuds woven into her dark hair. With a bright smile, she unhooked the green gown and held it up in front of Dawn. "Absolutely perfect," she murmured with confidence. "With this dress, you'll have every boy falling at your feet."

Dawn admired her reflection in a nearby mirror. "You think so?" she asked hopefully.

"Trust me," the brunette assured, "I should know. You'll have to chase them away."

Running a hand down the rich material the teenager beheld her image, clearly liking what she saw. The indulgent moment was soon over, however, and Dawn's expression crumpled. "I don't have any money," she told the shopkeeper with deep regret.

Instantly, the gown was whipped away and the women returned it to the hook. "It looks better on me anyway," she said scornfully, and then busied herself with ignoring Dawn's presence altogether.

Dejectedly, Dawn slunk out of the shop and resumed her walk. She soon came to a colorful tent positioned atop a tiny hillock in the middle of the common ground. There was no sign by the entrance, although she could hear a vague melody being played by violins emanating from within. Crossing the grass, she lifted the flap and looked inside. A crystal ball sat in the center of a small table, together with a deck of tarot cards. A small kettle bubbled cheerfully upon the hob. A curtain of sparkling glass beads separated the front of the tent from the rear and Dawn frowned. The size of the interior seemed to belie its outward appearance. She ducked back outside to check on the dimensions.

"That's where the fortune-teller will set up," Giles told her, appearing suddenly at her side. "But she – or- or he, I suppose," he added as an afterthought. "I've never actually met them, and men and women aren't quite as constrained as they once were, are they?" He chuckled at the thought, but quickly moved on. "At any rate, the fortune-teller hasn't arrived yet."

"But," protested Dawn, pointing at the tent, "they must have. There's a kettle boiling in there."

"Are you sure?" asked Giles, pulling back the flap to check. He glanced at the interior. It was woefully bare. No crystal ball, no deck of cards, no bubbling kettle, no beaded curtain – no anything.

The teenager blinked as she stared at the empty tent. "It was full of stuff just now."

Giles lowered the tent flap without further consideration. "Have you found your bird yet?" he inquired.

Dawn's eyes grew wide. "I ... I forgot I was looking for it."

Giles nodded sagely as he polished his glasses. "The memory is a tricky thing. Not necessarily reliable." A crease formed on his forehead as he watched Dawn hurry away. "Don't get lost," he cautioned, replacing his glasses firmly upon his nose and marching off again, studying the clipboard intently.

Dawn's search was interrupted by the sounds of vigorous hammering. The worker whistled happily as he plied his trade and a sigh of relief escaped Dawn's lips as she recognized the carpenter.

"Xander," she called delightedly as she hurried toward him. He turned and treated her to a broad grin. She returned his smile and looked into his eyes. There was a brief moment of confusion as she realized there were indeed two of them but the puzzlement was fleeting and slipped away as quickly as it had arrived. "What you doing?"

"Building a stage," he told her, fishing out another nail and banging it into place. "It's for the dancing troupe, so gotta be solid." With his fist, he pounded on the planks he'd nailed together and nodded with satisfaction when they held firm. "Can't have it collapsing, ‘specially not while the Queen's in the audience."

"The Queen?" queried Dawn. "The Queen's coming to watch?"

"Oh, yeah," confirmed an enthusiastic Xander. "She's a great lover of the arts."

"I'd like to meet her," the teenager pondered thoughtfully. "Maybe I could wait here? Until she comes?"

The carpenter shook his head ruefully. "Sorry, no performance today." With that, he returned to the stage, glancing over when he noticed that Dawn hadn't left yet. "So," he broached in a casual, friendly manner. "You're part of the festival?" Tipping his head to one side, he considered her with some curiosity. "Just a visitor?"

"I'm Dawn," she responded.

"Ahhh," replied Xander, nodding sagely. "I should've known that." He contemplated this new information for a moment and smiled at the teenager. "It's a nice name," he concluded.

Dawn looked a little embarrassed, but pleased. Still, Xander wore a puzzled expression. "Not sure why you're here, though," he confessed. Then a thought occurred, and he snapped his fingers together. "You're one of the serving wenches, right?" When Dawn didn't immediately disagree, Xander took this as confirmation. "Thought so. ‘The Food Court' is over that way—" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "—an' you can pick up your costume there too."

Dawn gazed in the direction he indicated for a moment and then her attention returned to Xander. "I'm looking for the wren," she informed him.

The carpenter had returned to his hammer. "Got some nice pieces of wood left over," he mumbled through a mouthful of nails. "Be happy to make a cage for your wren – if you find it, of course. Just let me know."

The conversation apparently at an end, Dawn wandered off in the direction she had been pointed. Around the construction area, the crowds had been thin, but the closer Dawn came to ‘The Food Court', the greater the throngs of people. Picnic tables had been arranged in the center of a giant ‘U'-shape, where food items of all types were being sold from vendors singing out their wares and trying their utmost to be heard over the excited, noisy chatter that infused the area.

"I want one as big as what everybody else got," whined a young blond man standing in front of a stall labeled 'King Henry's Drumsticks.' Dawn stared at the man's back and frowned as he waved a turkey leg in the air. "Or a refund," he persisted. "I shouldn't have to pay the same for something smaller." His objections were obviously falling on deaf ears, and he began to pout in a disgruntled and thoroughly ineffectual manner.

Nearly overwhelmed, Dawn looked anxiously around the area. Her discomfort lessened as she spied a girl pushing her way firmly through the crowd while balancing four half-coconuts in her hands. "Meghan," breathed Dawn as she followed the figure to a sturdy table flanked by two wooden benches.

"Could've died of thirst while you been gone," griped Jackie as Meghan delivered the drinks.

"Then you go next time," replied an irritated Meghan. "The line was about a zillion miles long."

Brenda slowly dragged one of the coconuts toward her and peered inside.

"Piña colada," Meghan told her. "But don't worry, it's the non-alcoholic kind." She winked at Jackie and grinned mischievously.

Ginny stuffed a generous piece of funnel cake into her mouth and watched Dawn's approach. She waved a greeting and Dawn smiled happily.

"I saw you talking to that cute carpenter," Ginny remarked as soon as Dawn was within earshot. "What did he say?"

"Xander?" queried Dawn.

Ginny sighed. "Is that his name? It sounds so romantic."

"He's building a stage for the dancers," she told them. "Then he said he'd build me a birdcage." Her eyes grew wide. "The wren," she muttered angrily to herself. "I forgot again."

Turning, she hurried away. The girls watched for a moment.

"Takes all sorts, I suppose," commented Meghan with a shrug.

"I hope she finds what she's looking for," remarked Brenda, watching Dawn's retreat with some concern.

Jackie, meanwhile, was glaring bitterly at the empty plate sitting in the center of the table. "You ate the last piece of funnel cake," she accused, scowling at Ginny.

Ginny looked guilty, even as she tried without success to clean her dress of any evidence.

"So you get to get some more," Jackie declared, pointing toward the appropriate booth.

Ginny stared forlornly at the huge line in front of the 'Queen Anne's Lace' stall, where a young blond man was complaining bitterly about the abundance of powdered sugar that had been sprinkled on his confection.

Dawn had only just cleared 'The Food Court' area when she found herself back on the wooden walkway of the market square once more. A brightly painted banner to her right, decorated with small potion bottles and tiny spell scrolls, cheerfully announced that she had arrived at 'The Magick Shanty.' A hopeful smile crossed her lips as she entered the booth.

At the counter, dressed in a long skirt and ruched blouse of purple, Willow was sorting through a box of assorted stones. "Tiger-eye," she murmured, checking the item against her inventory before moving on. "Malachite ..." She glanced up to see Dawn hovering in the doorway and, smiling, gestured for the teenager to enter.

"Looking for an amulet?" Willow queried with a twinkle. "Or maybe a little enchantment?" She waved her hand around the shoppe. "Something to bring you good luck? We can help with that. Our motto is: ‘If you're lookin' for luck, then today's your lucky day!'" The redhead frowned as soon as the words left her mouth. "Which, upon reflection, is a pretty stupid motto, so best to just ignore it. I'll come up with another in a minute."

Tara was unable to suppress an amused laugh. Wearing a flowing blue gown complete with cone-shaped princess hat, she was deftly removing a small black-and-white kitten from a shelf where beribboned circlets had been stored. The cat took a final swipe at one of the headdresses and meowed its protest. Tara smiled indulgently as she placed it gently on the ground. It promptly pounced upon a cardboard container of parchment scrolls and began to paw at the silk strings with which they had been tied. Willow rolled her eyes, but grinned at the kitten's antics.

"May we help you?" Tara asked Dawn pleasantly. She moved to stand next to Willow, allowing her fingers to slip across the other woman's shoulder as she did so and earning her a fond smile in return.

"I think so," the teenager replied, then frowned. "I hope so."

Willow nodded her approval at the statement. "You should. Hope is good. Without hope, what've you got?"

"Despair," Tara replied.

"And where's the fun in that?" questioned Willow.

Glancing from one to the other, Dawn stated, "I'm looking for the wren."

The redhead looked up from her examination of a bright green polished stone with blackish green streaks. "Sounds dark," she observed with disapproval. "It's not dark, is it? Cuz we don't do dark here." She dropped the stone in the sorted pile with the others. "Big no to dark."

"I don't think it's dark," stated Tara with moderate assurance. "I think we'd know."

"Maybe, baby. Y'can't always be sure, though. Dark's a crafty thing. If you're not careful, it'll sneak right up and eat your soul." Willow rolled her eyes, obviously finding the prospect tedious as she added, "And those are so hard to replace."

Dawn shook her head, denying the conjecture. "It's not dark. It's just lost, and I have to find it."

Holding the unwieldy hat in place, the blonde tilted her head to one side and studied Dawn with interest. "Why?"

"It needs me." The reply was likely meant to be confident, but came out uncertain.

"Are you sure?" asked Tara in a gentle tone that suggested she already knew the answer.

Unflinchingly, Dawn stared, almost daring the blonde to refute her words. "Someone has to take care of it. It's just a baby."

Tara's answering smile was indulgent. "That's what mama birds are for," she countered.

"But it doesn't have a mom," insisted the teenager.

Chuckling, Willow glanced up from her inventory list and waved her pencil in the air. "Silly. Everything has a mom."

"Maybe the wren went to see the Queen?" suggested Tara, looking to Willow. Willow nodded a 'perhaps' and then glanced out to the crowded walkways. She wiggled her fingers in greeting at the young man standing there. He was holding a mandolin and sporting a cap of bright orange. He responded with a small smile, although he didn't return the wave.

Dawn, who appeared to have been ready to pose another question, changed her mind as she followed Willow's gaze. "I've seen him before," she said, her eyes darting from the musician to Willow. "Or, at least, someone who looks like him. His hat keeps changing."

The redhead nodded. "It's always him. He's the local bard. He comes and goes, but never really leaves." She grinned affectionately as the bard continued on his way. Her attention returned to Dawn and she frowned.

"You don't have a costume," she observed with some concern. "Maybe that's the problem. You stick out like a sore thumb."

Ruefully, the teenager agreed. "I found a really nice dress in a shop not far from here." She paused. "At least I don't think it was far from here. But the owner wanted me to buy it and I don't have any money." She grimaced at the recollection. "She said it looked better on her anyway."

Willow winced in sympathy. "Sounds about right."

Tara offered Dawn one of the circlets. It was adorned with emerald ribbons and tiny sprigs of lavender. "Here, take this so you won't feel so out of place," she urged. "We can't sell it now anyway since little miss kitty there destroyed some of the flowers." Willow nodded at Dawn encouragingly.

"Thanks," acknowledged Dawn with a smile. She glanced around, but was unable to find a mirror.

"I'll put it on for you." Willow beamed as she stepped from behind the counter and adjusted the headdress, fiddling with the position until she got it to her liking. She glanced at Tara and shot her a devilish smile. "Thirsty work," she said meaningfully.

Tara smirked at the complete lack of subtlety. "I'm not quite sure, but I'm guessing you want something?" With a toothy grin, Willow nodded rapidly, causing Tara to laugh aloud. "I'll be right back." she promised.

The blonde almost made it to the exit when Willow loudly cleared her throat causing Tara to turn around. "I think you're forgettin' somethin' there, missy," Willow chastised, very pointedly puckering her lips and jutting her chin forward.

Shooting Dawn a wry grin, Tara complied – dutifully but happily.

Willow gave a contented sigh. "I am fortified with goodbye smoochies," she proclaimed.

"Oh, good. Can't come back to find a wilted Willow," the blonde smirked from over her shoulder.

Dawn followed Tara as she left. The instant the blonde had safely passed out of Willow's sight, she ripped the hat from her head and shook out her hair. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she dangled it by the strap.

"Don't you like wearing it?" asked Dawn.

The reply was a definite one. "No. I only do it to keep Willow happy." She smiled at Dawn and shrugged, as though to indicate a lack of any other viable option in the face of such things.

The teenager watched as the pale blue streamer attached to its apex trailed in the dust. "It's getting all dirty," she noted.

Tara glanced down. "Good excuse not to wear it," she replied before sighing deeply. "Though Willow will probably just want me to cut off the dirty part and put it back on." With a fond smile, she added, "Wouldn't do it for anyone else but her."

Together, they walked toward 'The Food Court'. The crowd had thinned since Dawn was there last. There was no sign of her four friends, although the blond man from earlier was now standing before the 'Sausage-On-A-Stick' stall, bemoaning the fact that his bratwurst had landed in an ant pile after the stick had unexpectedly broken before he'd even taken a single bite. Nobody seemed inclined to be sympathetic to his plight and the pair treated him to only a cursory glance.

With the reduced crowds, Dawn was able, for the first time, to get a decent look at the entire set-up. Almost immediately she noticed a darkened region beyond the perimeter of the banqueting area. Nothing could be seen beyond – no trees, no sky. Only a smoky black that appeared simultaneously to be both solid and tangible, while remaining indistinct and immaterial.

Only barely repressing a shudder, Dawn leaned toward Tara, who was studiously inspecting various menus in her pursuit of the perfect beverage. "What's out there?" the teenager whispered, as though raising her voice might somehow attract unwanted attention.

Tara followed Dawn's gaze. "I have no idea," she admitted casually. The fact didn't seem to worry her.

"Don't you ever leave?" queried Dawn, confused by Tara's lack of both reaction and information.

"Oh no," responded the blonde. "Why should I? Everything I need is right here." She smiled affectionately and then thought for a moment. "I believe the Queen sometimes leaves though."

The teenager's eyes grew wide. "You've seen the Queen?"

Tara nodded affirmatively. "Many times."

"Think I could get to see her?"

Tara's expression was tentative but Dawn pressed the point.

"I'd really like to meet her. Do you think I could meet her?"

"That's not for me to say," Tara told the teenager kindly, "but you maybe could find the answer there." She pointed over Dawn's shoulder. Glancing behind, the teenager spied the fortune-teller tent. She turned back to Tara, but the blonde had vanished.

Hesitantly, Dawn made her way to the small pavilion. A wooden sign driven into the ground was now displayed next to the flap. It was decorated with tiny horseshoes and four-leaf clovers and bore the title: 'Madame Kalderash'.