Old Marcy standing behind the chair brushed and braided the beautiful hair. Young Matty on the floor, encased the dainty feet in silken hose and satin slippers. And then the beauty stood up and let them remove her wrapper and put on her robes and her wreath, and her veil. But with her own hands she clasped the diamond necklace around her throat and the diamond bracelets on her wrists, and put ear-rings in her ears, and the brooch upon her bosom.
And when her toilet was completed she looked, if looks were all, a very royal bride, fit to share a young monarch’s throne.
She sat down again and said:
“Matty, you may go and tell your master that I am ready.”
The girl left the room to take the message, but in the hall she ran against some one who seemed on his way to speak to the bride. And so she turned back to say.
“Miss Anna, here’s Jake asking if he can have a word with you.”
“Certainly. Tell the boy to come in,” said the young lady.
The son of the coachman, one of the younger grooms, entered, hat in hand, bowing low.
“Well, my boy, what is it?” inquired his mistress.
“If you please, Miss, I telled her as she couldn’t, and she said as she must, and I telled her as she shouldn’t, and she said she would,” replied Jake, rather incoherently.