"How may that be," laughed Eleanor, "if I am 'supreme o'er the garden?' 'Tis enough for me; but I see not how you can o'ertop that compliment. Let me hear what you have to say to my sister of France."
Marguerite, as befitting her name, wore daisies, and squaring his shoulders Richard sang lustily,
"Flower o' the Marguerite;
Queen of the garden, fair Reine Marguerite,
If my heart were not captive 't would lie at your feet."
"'Tis Beatrice then who holds your heart in thrall?" bantered the queen, for she was malicious enough to plunge him in further difficulty. Here also was a coil for Beatrice was jealous of Sancie's beauty, and her lover, Charles of Anjou, sat beside her quick to resent any aspersion upon his mistress.
Beatrice, like a bacchante, had bound her brows with vine leaves one of which Charles now broke off and handed to the competing minstrel. With a gallant bow and a smile which atoned for the quizzical reservation, Richard sang,
"Flower o' the Vine;
For you, merry Charles, the chaplet of vine
'T is a guerdon all envy, so pray grant me mine."
Laughter resounded from every side of the pleasance mingled with cries, "Your flower! Name your favourite flower."
Then Richard knelt before Sancie, who hid her face behind the blossoms which so well matched her blushes, and sang from his heart:
"Flower o' the Peach,
Flower o' the Peach, dearest Flower o' the Peach,
A flower for each fancy—his own love for each."
Brief was the consultation between the judges. Queen Eleanor descended from her throne and amid clappings and bravoes gave Richard the stalk of lilies which had served her for sceptre and was now his palm of victory.