ice, the Canongate was the home
of all the richest lords and ladies.

For close to the Canongate was Holyrood, the palace where the
king held his court. And it was well, thought the lords and
ladies of long ago, to live near the palace where there were many
gay sights to be seen.

Lizzie had been a bonny wee girl, and as she grew up she grew
bonnier still, until, not only in Edinburgh, but far and wide
throughout the country, people would speak of her beauty. Even
the folk who dwelt away over the hills in the Highlands heard of
the beauty of Lizzie Lindsay.

Dame Lindsay loved her daughter well, and gave her beautiful
gowns of silk and velvet. Her father, too, would bring her home
many a sparkling jewel, many a brilliant gem. It seemed as though
Lizzie Lindsay had all that her heart could wish.

Certainly she did not wish to leave her home in the Canongate,
for though lord after lord, noble after noble begged for her
hand, Lizzie but tossed her beautiful head high in the air as she
said them nay.

But though it was well known that the lovely maiden had kind
looks and gentle words to spare for none save only her dear
father and her doting mother, yet still the lords and nobles
would dance more gladly with Lizzie than with any other maiden.
And a ball, even a ball given by the court at the palace of
Holyrood, seemed to be less gladsome were it known that the fair
maiden would not be there.

Now, as I have told you, the fame of Lizzie Lindsay's beauty had
spread even to the Highlands. And Donald, the young laird of
Kingcaussie, heard that she was fairer than any other maiden in
the land, and that she was haughtier and more wilful as well. For
she would have nought to say, to any of the rich suitors who
surrounded her.

Then Donald, who was tall and handsome, and who was used to have
his own way, smiled as he heard of Lizzie's wilful spirit and her
great beauty. He made up his mind that he would go to Edinburgh
and try to win as his bride the bonnie lassie who would have
nought to do with noble or with lord.

The young laird lived with his father and mother in a castle
built high amid the heather-covered hills, and little until now
had Donald cared for city ways or city walls. To hunt the deer,
to chase the roe, to spend the long hours from early morn until
even among the heathery moors which were all his own, had been
happiness enough for him.

But now, now the glory faded from the heather, and the hunt and