"Well, Sam. How goes the world with you? You have got a new coat and hosen, I see."
"Ay, thanks to the young lord's gold pieces," answered Sam. "He paid well and honestly; and I took a mighty resolution, and spent it on my back rather than on my belly."
"Ay, some grace left!" exclaimed Boyd. "But what has happened to thy pipes, man? They used always to be under thine elbow, and not stuck into thy belt."
"Those rascal troopers slit my bag," answered the piper; "and I shall have to travel through three counties ere I get another. I lost a silver groat, I am sure, by the want of it this very morning; for there was a bright company at Hinckley, and some of them speaking the Scottish tongue. Now every Scot loves the bagpipe."
"But not such pipes as yours," answered Boyd. "Theirs are of a different make. But who were these people, did you hear?"
"Nay, I asked no names," replied Sam; "for Scots do not like to be questioned. But there was a fair lady with them--very fair and very beautiful still, though the spring tide of her life had gone by--and the people called her Highness."
The woodman mused, and then inquired: "Were they all Scottish people?"
"Nay, some were English," answered Sam, "gallants of the king's court, I judge, and speaking as good English as you or I do. But there were Scottish persons of quality too, besides the lady who was so, I am sure--for what English princess should she be?"
"And were they all so gaily dressed then?" asked Boyd, in the same musing tone.
"Some were, and some were not," replied the piper; "but the lady herself was plainest of them all, more like a nun than a princess. But you can see them with your own eyes if you like; for they will pass by in half an hour, if they keep to the time at which they said they would set out. They are going to offer at St. Clare; and you may plant yourself at the gate, or under a tree by the roadside, and they will all pass you like a show."