one, "that
the king is jealous of him? He was a former suitor to the Lady Anne
Boleyn, and desperately in love with her; and it is supposed that his
mission to France was only a pretext to get him out of the way."

"I suspected as much," replied Mabel. "Alas! for Sir Thomas; and alas!
for the Earl of Surrey."

"And alas! for Mabel Lyndwood, if she allows her heart to be fixed upon
the king," said Deborah.

While this was passing the business of the kitchen, which had been
interrupted by the various incidents above related, and especially by
the conflict between the two jesters, was hurried forward, and for some
time all was bustle and confusion.

But as soon as the supper was served, and all his duties were fully
discharged, Simon Quanden, who had been bustling about, sat down in his
easy-chair, and recruited himself with a toast and a sack posset. Hob
and Nob had their supper at the same time, and the party at the table,
which had been increased by the two archers and Nicholas Clamp, attacked
with renewed vigour a fresh supply of mead and ale, which had been
provided for them by Jack of the Bottles.

The conversation then turned upon Herne the Hunter; and as all had heard
more or less about him, and some had seen him, while few knew the legend
connected with him, Hector Cutbeard volunteered to relate it; upon which
all the party gathered closer together, and Mabel and Deborah left off
talking, and drew near to listen.

VI.

The Legend of Herne the Hunter.

"Nearly a century and a half ago," commenced Cutbeard, about the middle
of the reign of Richard the Second, there was among the keepers of the
forest a young man named Herne. He was expert beyond his fellows in all
matters of woodcraft, and consequently in great favour with the king,
who was himself devoted to the chase. Whenever he stayed at the castle,
King Richard, like our own royal Harry, would pass his time in hunting,
hawking, or shooting with the long-bow; and on all these occasions the
young keeper was his constant attendant. If a hart was to be chased,
Herne and his two black hounds of Saint Hubert's breed would hunt him
down with marvellous speed; if a wild boar was to be reared, a badger
digged out, a fox unkennelled, a marten bayed, or an otter vented, Herne
was chosen for the task. No one could fly a falcon so well as Herne--no
one could break up a deer so quickly or so skilfully as him. But in
proportion as he grew in favour with