was heard outside, a loud imperious voice demanded, "Is my Lord
Archbishop within?" a whisper ran round, "the King," and there entered
the hall with hasty steps, a figure never to be forgotten, clad in a
bunting dress of green velvet embroidered with gold, with a golden
hunting horn slung round his neck.

Henry the Eighth was then in the splendid prime of his youth, in his
twenty-seventh year, and in the eyes, not only of his own subjects, but
of all others, the very type of a true king of men. Tall, and as yet of
perfect form for strength, agility, and grace; his features were of the
beautiful straight Plantagenet type, and his complexion of purely fair
rosiness, his large well-opened blue eyes full at once of frankness and
keenness, and the short golden beard that fringed his square chin giving
the manly air that otherwise might have seemed wanting to the feminine
tinting of his regular lineaments. All caps were instantly doffed save
the little bonnet with one drooping feather that covered his short,
curled, yellow hair; and the Earl of Derby, who was at the head of
Wolsey's retainers, made haste, bowing to the ground, to assure him that
my Lord Archbishop was but doffing his robes, and would be with his
Grace instantly. Would his Grace vouchsafe to come on to the privy
chamber where the dinner was spread?

At the same moment Quipsome Hal sprang forward, exclaiming, "How now,
brother and namesake? Wherefore this coil? Hath cloth of gold wearied
yet of cloth of frieze? Is she willing to own her right to this?" as he
held out his bauble.

"Holla, old Blister! art thou there?" said the King, good-humouredly.
"What! knowest not that we are to have such a wedding as will be a sight
for sore eyes!"

"Sore! that's well said, friend Hal. Thou art making progress in mine
art! Sore be the eyes wherein thou wouldst throw dust."

Again the King laughed, for every one knew that his sister Mary had
secretly been married to the Duke of Suffolk for the last two months,
and that this public marriage and the tournament that was to follow were
only for the sake of appearances. He laid his hand good-naturedly on
the jester's shoulder as he walked up the hall towards the Archbishop's
private apartments, but the voices of both were loud pitched, and bits
of the further conversation could be picked up. "Weddings are rife in
your family," said the jester, "none of you get weary of fitting on the
noose. What, thou thyself, Ha