r wives and
their sweethearts all dressed out in splendid attire. As the King jumped
down from his horse before the lych gate, and held out his strong hand
to help the brides from off their milk-white mares, the whole place
became alive with excitement and rapture.

Little maids, with baskets of violets and primroses, flung their
offerings prettily under the feet of the two beauteous blushing brides,
who leaned so timidly upon the King's proud arms.

At last the service was begun and both couples were well nigh wed. The
Bishop had spoken the Latin service impressively and with unction.

In the first row stood Monceux, in all the pomp of his shrievalty, with
his councilmen and aldermen. Master Simeon, with face leaner than ever
and inturning eyes, glared impotently at the chief actors in this
historic scene.

Alone missing from it was the cold, colorless beauty of the demoiselle
Marie. She had taken herself to her room this morn, and had sworn never
to leave it again. But now that the double marriage was nearly made she
suddenly appeared, thrusting her way rudely through the gathered crowd
at the church door. She was wild-eyed, dishevelled, her dress fastened
all awry. Folks looked once at her, and then exchanged glances between
themselves.

"Stay this mockery of marriage, my lord," she cried, fiercely facing the
Bishop. She had elbowed a path for herself to the chancel steps. "I do
forbid the marrying of these two." She pointed a trembling finger from
Robin to Marian. "This woman is blood-guilty, and Holy Church may not
countenance her." She shrilled, desperately, "'Twas she who foully
killed Master Fitzwalter, her own father, and I have proof of it!"

"'Tis false!" roared Robin, then beside himself. "You viper--you
mean-souled spy! Is no crime too great for you?"

"There is no need for defence," spoke the King; "the charge is too wild
and foolish an one. Seize this woman, some of you, and take her without.
I will deal with her later." He imperiously signed to his guards, and at
once the demoiselle was gripped harshly by both arms.

"Be gentle with her," pleaded Marian; "she is distraught, and hath not
command upon herself. I beg of you, sire, to forgive this; I have no
quarrel with Mistress Monceux."

The demoiselle had suddenly become quiet under the fierce hands of Much
and Little John. She allowed them to thrust her ignominiously forth. At
the door of the church she turned once as though to renew her
prep