“By St. Boniface,” said one, “the girl’s father is not there. Saucy little baggage, was she deluding us all?”
“Belike he is bringing too long a train of mules with her dowry to make much speed,” quoth the merchant. “He will think it needful to collect all his gear to meet the offers of Master Lambert of Cripple-gate. Ha! Sir Knight, well met! You are going to try your venture!”
“I must! So it were not all enchantment,” said the knight, almost breathlessly, gazing round him. “Yet,” he said, almost to himself, “those eyes had a soul and memories that ne’er came out of fairyland!”
“Ha!” exclaimed the innkeeper, “there’s old Blind Hal under the tree! I’ll tell him to get out of our way. Hal!” he shouted, “here’s a tester for thee, but thou’st best keep out of the way of the mules.”
“What mules, Master Samson?” coolly demanded Hal, who had comfortably established himself under the tree with his back against the trunk.
“The mules that the brave burgess is going to bring his daughter’s dowry on. They are cranky brutes, Hal; bad customers for blind men—best let me give thee a hand out of the way.”
“But who is this burgess that you talk of?” asked the beggar.
“The father of the pilgrim lass that prayed at St. Winifred’s Well,” said Samson.
“And was called Queen of the Dew-drops?”
“Ay, ay, old fellow! Thou knowest every bird that flies! She is to be my wife, I tell thee, and a right warm corner shall she keep for thee at the Black Bull, for thou canst make sport for the guests right well.”