Beth's gaze shifts between the crowd of dancers and Byerly, watching and listening to him as she leads the song. He picks it up quickly, even more proof of his skill--and so does the band and the audience, who make the three claps in the chorus raucous. She grins back around the words--the major and the corporal and the captain sought her--at Byerly. His fingers move swiftly over the fiddle's fingerboard; if she didn't have her own singing to do, she'd be tempted to stand there and watch.

It's a quick song, even if you repeat the chorus one last time at the end. When it's done, she takes a quick curtsy before applauding with the rest of the tent. Byerly and the rest of the musicians deserve just as much attention--they're the ones who followed along without knowing the melody to start with.

"Not bad," she says to Byerly, the biggest understatement of the night, just under the din as the band starts up another tune.