“And Edric walked round the hall till he came to little May Underwood, the forester’s daughter; and then bringing the white stockings and the crimson rosettes close side by side together, and making her a low bow, he took her hand and led her out upon the floor.
“The Yule Clog was in a full blaze now, and the clear light shone from end to end of the hall; falling upon the bright floor and the long row of servants and retainers that were ranged around, and glossily reflected from the sharp holly leaves and its bright red berries. The old portraits did not light up much, and looked very near as gloomy as ever; but a full halo of the fireshine was about the Squire’s chair, and upon my lady as she stood beside him. Two or three of the serving-men played a strange old tune upon as strange old instruments; and the forester now and then threw in a few wild notes of his bugle, that sounded through the house and aroused all the echoes: but the wind sighed outside still.
“And all this while the little dancers were going through the slow, graceful steps of their pretty dance; with the most respectful bows and courtesies, the most ceremonious presenting of hands and acceptance of the same, the most graceful and complicated turns and bends; till at last when the music suddenly struck into a quick measure, Edric presented his right hand to little May, and they danced gayly forward to where my lady stood near the Squire, and made their low reverence—first to her and then to each other. Then Edric led his little partner back to her seat and returned to his grandmother. For my lady was his grandmother, and he had no parents.
“As the Yule Clog snapped and crackled and blazed higher and higher, even so did the mirth of all in the great hall. They talked and laughed and sang and played games, and not an echo in the house could get leave to be silent.
“All of a sudden, in the midst of the fun, a little boy dressed like Robin Redbreast in a dark coat and bright red waistcoat, opened one of the hall doors; and just showing himself for a moment, he flung the door clear back and an old man entered. His hair was perfectly white, and so was his beard, which reached down to his waist. On his head was a crown of yew and ivy, and in his hand a long staff topped with holly berries; his dress was a long brown robe which fell down about his feet, and on it were sewed little spots of white cloth to represent snow. He made a low bow to the Squire and my lady, and when Robin Redbreast had discreetly closed the door so far that but a little wind could come in, he began to sing in a queer little cracked voice,—
“Oh! here come I, old Father Christmas, welcome or not,
“I hope old Father Christmas will never be forgot.
“Make room, room, I say,
“That I may lead Mince Pye this way.
“Walk in Mince Pye, and act thy part,