“What’s happening?” Bess asked when somebody pushed against her.
“The Lord Mayor is passing,” Smith explained as a file of scarlet-coated guardsmen pressed back the crowds on either side of the street.
Smith and Bess watched as six matched horses hauled the coach up the Strand, with the liveried driver sitting with an ornate wig and the Lord Mayor glancing at the citizens.
“That’s the way to travel,” Bess said. “That coach cost over a thousand pounds to build.” He repeated the figure. “A thousand pounds! Most people won’t earn that in twenty years’ work!”
“The Aldermen all subscribed to pay for it,” Smith watched the heavily ornamented coach roll past. “And now the Corporation is going to buy it.” He grinned. “How would you like to travel in that and reign over London?” Smith asked.
“
