branch, and these branches, almost trees in themselves, spread forty-
eight feet on each side of the bole, lifting a mountain of rich
verdure above them, and casting a delicious shade upon the ground
beneath them. Beneath one of these noble trees, some years after the
arrival of the hapless Mary Stuart, a party of children were playing,
much to the amusement of an audience of which they were utterly
unaware, namely, of sundry members of a deer-hunting party; a lady
and gentleman who, having become separated from the rest, were
standing in the deep bracken, which rose nearly as high as their
heads, and were further sheltered by a rock, looking and listening.

"Now then, Cis, bravely done! Show how she treats her ladies--"

"Who will be her lady? Thou must, Humfrey!"

"No, no, I'll never be a lady," said Humfrey gruffly.

"Thou then, Diccon."

"No, no," and the little fellow shrank back, "thou wilt hurt me,
Cis."

"Come then, do thou, Tony! I'll not strike too hard!"

"As if a wench could strike too hard."

"He might have turned that more chivalrously," whispered the lady to
her companion. "What are they about to represent? Mort de ma vie,
the profane little imps! I, believe it is my sacred cousin, the
Majesty of England herself! Truly the little maid hath a bearing