ll over the country to tell the people everywhere to rejoice,
for their Princess was being married, not to any stranger, but to her
old lover, Hynde Horn, who had come back in time after all.

THE GAY GOS-HAWK

"'Oh weel is me, my gay gos-hawk,
If your feathering be sheen!'
'Oh waly, waly, my master dear,
But ye look pale and lean!'"

It was the beautiful month of June, and among the bevy of fair maidens
who acted as maids-of-honour to Queen Margaret at Windsor, there was
none so fair as the Lady Katherine, the youngest of them all.

As she joined in a game of bowls in one of the long alleys under the elm
trees, or rode out, hawk on wrist, in the great park near the castle,
her merry face, with its rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, was a
pleasure to see. She had gay words for everyone, even for the
sharp-tongued, grave-faced old Baroness who acted as governess to the
Queen's maids, and kept a sharp lookout lest any of the young ladies
under her charge should steal too shy glances at the pages and
gentlemen-at-arms who waited on the King.

The old lady loved her in return, and pretended to be blind when she
noticed, what every maid-of-honour had noticed for a fortnight, that
there was one Knight in particular who was always at hand to pick up
Lady Katherine's balls for her, or to hold her palfrey's rein if she
wanted to alight, when she was riding in the forest.

This gallant Knight was not one of the King's gentlemen, but the son of
a Scottish earl, who had been sent to Windsor with a message from the
King of Scotland.

Lord William, for that was his name, was so tall, and strong, and brave,
and manly, it was no wonder that little Lady Katherine fell in love with
him, and preferred him to all the young English lords who were longing
to lay their hearts at her feet.

So things went merrily on, in the pleasant June weather, until one sunny
afternoon, when Lady Katherine was riding slowly through the park, under
the shady beech trees, with Lord William, as usual, by her side. He was
telling her how much he loved her, a story which he had told her very
often before, and describing the old ivy-covered gray castle, far away
in the North, where he would take her to live some day, when a little
page, clad all in Lincoln green, ran across the park and bowed as he
stopped at the palfrey's side. "Pardon, my lady," he said breathlessly,
"but the Baroness Anne sent me to carry tidings to th