“How is this, my Lord Cardinal?” said Henry; “I bade them make an example of a few worthless hinds, such as might teach the lusty burghers to hold their lads in bounds and prove to our neighbours that their churlishness was by no consent of ours.”
“I trow,” returned the Cardinal, “that one of these same hinds is a boon companion of the fool’s—hinc illæ lachrymæ, and a speech that would have befitted a wise man’s mouth.”
“There is work that may well make even a fool grave, friend Thomas,” replied the jester.
“Nay, but what hath this little wench to say?” asked the King, looking down on the child from under his plumed cap with a face set in golden hair, the fairest and sweetest, as it seemed to her, that she had ever seen, as he smiled upon her. “Methinks she is too small to be thy love. Speak out, little one. I love little maids, I have one of mine own. Hast thou a brother among these misguided lads?”
“Not so, an please your Grace,” said Dennet, who fortunately was not in the least shy, and was still too young for a maiden’s shamefastness. “He is to be my betrothed. I would say, one of them is, but the other—he saved my father’s life once.”
The latter words were lost in the laughter of the King and Cardinal at the unblushing avowal of the small, prim-faced maiden.
“Oh ho! So ’tis a case of true love, whereto a King’s face must needs show grace. Who art thou, fair suppliant, and who may this swain of thine be?”
“I am Dennet Headley, so please your Grace; my father is Giles Headley the armourer, Alderman of Cheap Ward,” said Dennet, doing her part bravely, though puzzled by the King’s tone of banter; “and see here, your Grace!”
