“Have you got her with you?” asked the squire.
“She is down at the door,” said the lad.
“Take her up to the room my mother had,” said the squire.
“But master, how can that be managed?” said the lad.
“You must just do as I tell you,” said the squire. “If you cannot manage her alone you must get the men to help you,” for he thought the girl might turn obstreperous.
When the lad saw his master’s face he knew it would be no use to gainsay him. So he went and got all the farm tenants who were there to help him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind, and at last they got her up the stairs and into the room. There lay all the wedding finery ready.
“Now, that’s done master!” said the lad; “but it was a terrible job. It was the worst I have ever had here on the farm.
“Never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing,” said his master. “Now send the women up to dress her.”
“But I say master—!” said the lad.
“None of your talk!” said the squire. “Tell them they must dress her and mind and not forget either wreath or crown.