“Oh, do be careful,” said Elfrida. “Your darling head!” and the Queen kissed her again.
Then a noise rather like bagpipes rose shrill and sudden, and all drew back, making room for the rustic maids and swains to tread the country dance. Other instruments joined in, and suddenly the King cried, “A merry tune that calls to the feet. Come, my sweeting, shall we tread a measure with the rest?” So down they came from their horses, King and Queen, and led the country dance, laughing and gay as any country lad and lass.
Elfrida could have cried. It seemed such a pity that everybody should not always be good and happy, as everybody looked to-day.
The King had sprung from his horse with Edred in his arms, and now he and his sister drew back towards Cousin Richard.
“How pretty it all is!” said Edred. “I should like to stay here for ever.”
“If I were you,” said Richard, very disagreeably indeed, “I would not stay here an hour.”
“Why? Is it dangerous? Will they cut our heads off?”
“Not that I know of,” said Cousin Richard, still thoroughly disagreeable. “I wasn’t thinking about your heads. There are more important things than your heads in the world, I should think.”
“Not so very much more,” said Elfrida meekly,—“to us, I mean. And what are you so cross about?”
“I should have thought,” Richard was beginning, when the old woman who told Elfrida to go forward with the nosegay of ceremony sidled up to them.