Confessor Clayton continued, gesticulating as the basket upon his head bobbed and dipped. “Lady Eostre, also called Ostara. Dame of the Hares we name her, as she is patroness of that which fruitfully multiplies upon the earth, and that which sustains the belly and warms the body when taken with respect. Mistress of Eggs, she is called, for her daily gift of breakfast from hens and fowl, which reminds us of the boundlessness of life and also its cycle. She is also known as Mother of Fluffchicks, for the many small and fluffy birds brought forth from eggs not otherwise eaten. And, of course, children know her best as the Dispenstress of Honeyed Sweets–a reminder to those that have them of nature’s bounty.”

“I see,” I said. “Well, uh, Confessor, what will you do now?”

“We will have a Ceremonial Scattering, that we may know the toil of Lady Eostre, also called Ostara. Then there will be The Baskening, where woven reed baskets filled with bounties for the worthy will be distributed. Than, naturally, will follow Chocpocalypse, where the honeyed gifts of Lady Eostre, also called Ostara, will be consumed. The tummyaches to follow are a reminder to us of the dangers of excess.”

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