beautiful bird, indeed,” cried Alizon. “Take care of it for me till I come home.”
“Which winna be till late, ey fancy,” rejoined Jennet, roguishly. “Ah!” she added, uttering a cry.
The latter exclamation was occasioned by the sudden flight of the dove, which, escaping from her hold, soared aloft. Jennet followed the course of its silver wings, as they cleaved the blue sky, and then all at once saw a large hawk, which apparently had been hovering about, swoop down upon it, and bear it off. Some white feathers fell down near the little girl, and she picked up one of them and put it in her breast.
“Poor bird!” exclaimed the May Queen.
“Eigh, poor bird!” echoed Jennet, tearfully. “Ah, ye dunna knoa aw, Alizon.”
“Weel, there’s neaw use whimpering abowt a duv,” observed Jem, gruffly. “Ey’n bring ye another t’ furst time ey go to Cown.”
“There’s nah another bird like that,” sobbed the little girl. “Shoot that cruel hawk fo’ me, Jem, win ye.”
“How conney wench, whon its flown away?” he replied. “Boh ey’n rob a hawk’s neest fo ye, if that’ll do os weel.”
“Yo dunna understand me, Jem,” replied the child, sadly.
At this moment, the music, which had ceased while some arrangements were made, commenced a very lively tune, known as “Round about the May-pole,” and Robin Hood, taking the May Queen’s hand, led her towards the pole, and placing her near it, the whole of her attendants took hands, while a second circle was formed by the morris-dancers, and both began to wheel rapidly round her, the music momently increasing in spirit and quickness. An irresistible desire to join in the measure seized some of the lads and lasses around, and they likewise took hands, and presently a third and still wider circle was formed, wheeling gaily round the other two. Other dances were formed here and there, and presently the whole green was in movement.
“If you come off heart-whole to-night, Dick, I shall be surprised,” observed Nicholas, who with his young relative had approached as near the May-pole as the three rounds of dancers would allow them.
Richard Assheton made no reply, but glanced at the pink which he had placed in his doublet.
“Who is the May Queen?” inquired Sir Thomas Metcalfe, who had likewise drawn near, of a tall man holding a little girl by the hand.
“Alizon, dowter of Elizabeth Device, an mey sister,” replied James Device, gruffly.
“Humph!” muttered Sir Thomas, “she is a well-looking lass. And she dwells here—in Whalley, fellow?” he added.
“Hoo dwells i’ Whalley,” responded Jem, sullenly.
“I can easily find her abode,” muttered the knight, walking away.
“What was it Sir Thomas said to you, Jem?” inquired Nicholas, who had watched the knight’s gestures, coming up.
Jem related what had passed between them.
“What the devil does he want with her?” cried Nicholas. “No good, I’m sure. But I’ll spoil his sport.”
“Say boh t’ word, squoire, an ey’n break every boan i’ his body,” remarked Jem.
“No, no, Jem,” replied Nicholas. “Take care of your pretty sister, and I’ll take care of him.”
At this juncture, Sir Thomas, who, in spite of the efforts of the pacific Master Potts to tranquillise him, had been burning with wrath at the affront he had received from Nicholas, came up to Richard Assheton, and, noticing the pink in his bosom, snatched it away suddenly.
“I want a flower,” he said, smelling at it.
“Instantly restore it, Sir Thomas!” cried Richard Assheton, pale with rage, “or—”
“What will you do, young sir?” rejoined the knight tauntingly, and plucking the flower in pieces. “You can get another from the fair nymph who gave you this.”
Further speech was not allowed the knight, for he received a violent blow on the chest from the hand of Richard Assheton, which sent him reeling backwards, and would have felled him to the ground if he had not been caught by some of the bystanders. The moment he recovered, Sir Thomas drew his sword, and furiously assaulted young Assheton, who stood ready for him, and after the exchange of a few passes, for none of the bystanders dared to interfere, sent his sword whirling over their heads through the air.
“Bravo, Dick,” cried Nicholas, stepping up, and clapping his cousin on the back, “you have read him a good lesson, and taught him that he cannot always insult folks with impunity, ha! ha!” And he laughed loudly at the discomfited knight.
“He is an insolent coward,” said Richard Assheton. “Give him his sword and let him come on again.”
“No, no,” said Nicholas, “he has had enough this time. And if he has not, he must settle an account with me. Put up your blade, lad.”
“I’ll be revenged upon you both,” said Sir Thomas, taking his sword, which had been brought him by a bystander, and stalking away.
“You leave us in mortal dread, doughty knight,” cried Nicholas, shouting after him, derisively—“ha! ha! ha!”
Richard Assheton’s attention was, however, turned in a different direction, for the music suddenly ceasing, and the dancers stopping, he learnt that the May Queen had fainted, and presently afterwards the crowd opened to give passage to Robin Hood, who bore her inanimate form in his arms.
Chapter 4.
Alice Nutter
The quarrel between Nicholas Assheton and Sir Thomas Metcalfe had already been made known to Sir Ralph by the officious Master Potts, and though it occasioned the knight much displeasure; as interfering with the amicable arrangement he hoped to effect with Sir Thomas for his relatives the Robinsons, still he felt sure that he had sufficient influence with his hot-headed cousin, the squire, to prevent the dispute from being carried further, and he only waited the conclusion of the sports on the green, to take him to task. What was the knight’s surprise and annoyance, therefore, to find that a new brawl had sprung up, and, ignorant of its precise cause, he laid it entirely at the door of the turbulent Nicholas. Indeed, on the commencement of the fray he imagined that the squire was personally concerned in it, and full of wroth, flew to the scene of action; but before he got there, the affair, which, as has been seen, was of short duration, was fully settled, and he only heard the jeers addressed to the retreating combatant by Nicholas. It was not Sir Ralph’s way to vent his choler in words, but the squire knew in an instant, from the expression of his countenance, that he was greatly incensed, and therefore hastened to explain.
“What means this unseemly disturbance, Nicholas?” cried Sir Ralph, not allowing the other to speak. “You are ever brawling like an Alsatian squire. Independently of the ill example set to these good folk, who have met here for tranquil amusement, you have counteracted all my plans for the adjustment of the differences
