his companion. Amongst the many lovely and
high-born dames who had so recently graced the procession to the castle
were few, if any, comparable to this lowly damsel. Her dress--probably
owing to the pride felt in her by her old relative was somewhat superior
to her station. A tightly-laced green kirtle displayed to perfection her
slight but exquisitely-formed figure A gown of orange-coloured cloth,
sufficiently short to display her small ankles, and a pair of green
buskins, embroidered with silver, together with a collar of the whitest
and finest linen, though shamed by the neck it concealed, and fastened
by a small clasp, completed her attire. Her girdle was embroidered with
silver, and her sleeves were fastened by aiglets of the same metal.

"How proud old Tristram Lyndwood seems of his granddaughter," remarked
one of the keepers.

"And with reason," replied another. "Mabel Lyndwood is the comeliest
lass in Berkshire."

"Ay, marry is she," rejoined the first speaker; "and, to my thinking,
she is a fairer and sweeter flower than any that blooms in yon stately
castle--the flower that finds so much favour in the eyes of our royal
Hal not excepted."

"Have a care, Gabriel Lapp," observed another keeper. "Recollect that
Mark Fytton, the butcher, was hanged for speaking slightingly of the
Lady Anne Boleyn; and you may share his fate if you disparage her
beauty."

"Na I meant not to disparage the Lady Anne," replied Gabriel. "Hal
may marry her when he will, and divorce her as soon afterwards as he
pleases, for aught I care. If he marries fifty wives, I shall like him
all the better. The more the merrier, say I. But if he sets eyes on Mab
Lyndwood it may somewhat unsettle his love for the Lady Anne."

"Tush, Gabriel!" said Morgan Fenwolf, darting an angry look at him.
"What business have you to insinuate that the king would heed other than
the lady of his love?"

"You are jealous, Morgan Fenwolf," rejoined Gabriel, with a malignant
grin. "We all know you are in love with Mabel yourself."

"And we all know, likewise, that Mabel will have nothing to say to you!"
cried another keeper, while the others laughed in chorus. "Come and sit
down beside us, Morgan, and finish your breakfast."

But the keeper turned moodily away, and hied towards Tristram Lyndwood
and his granddaughter. The old forester shook him cordially by the hand,
and after questioning him as to what had taken place, and hearing how
he had managed to dri