With timid friendliness in her pretty face, Dearwyn waited, and the Danish
girl gave her a shy smile when at last they stood side by side; but their
acquaintanceship did not appear to have reached the point of conversation, for
they walked back in silence to the spot where the Lady Elfgiva's train had
halted on its journey for a noonday meal and rest.
Along the bank of a pebbly stream, between pickets of mounted guards, the
troop of holiday-folk was strung in scattered groups. Yonder, a body of the
King's huntsmen struggled with braces of leashed hounds. Here were gathered
together the falconers bearing the King's birds. Nearer, a band of grooms led
the King's blooded horses to the water. And nearer yet, where the sun lay warm
on a leafy glade, the King's beautiful "Danish wife" took her nooning amid her
following of maids and of pages, of ribboned wenches and baggage-laden slaves.
As her glance fell upon this last picture, Randalin drew a quick breath of
admiration. While they waited for the bondwomen to restore to the hampers the
crystal goblets and gold-fringed napkins that even in the wood wastes must
minister to such delicate lips, one merry little lady was launching fleets of
beech-nut rinds down the stream; another, armed with a rush-spear, was making
bold attack on the slumbers of some woodland creature which she had spied out
basking on the sunny side of a stump; and in the centre of the open, the Lady
Elfgiva was amusing herself with the treasures of red and gold leaves which
silk-clad pages were bringing from the thicket.
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