The Bishop stretched out his hand and took up his biretta.

“When did the nuns last have a Play Day?” he asked.

“Not a month ago,” replied the Prioress.  “They made the hay in the river meadow, and carried it themselves.  They thought it rare sport.”

The Bishop put on his biretta.

“Give them a Play Day, dear Prioress, in honour of my visit.  Tell them I asked that they should have it the day after to-morrow.  I will then send you my white palfrey, suitably caparisoned.  Brother Philip, who attends me when I ride, and who has the palfrey well controlled, shall lead him in.  The nuns can then ride in turns, in the river meadow; and our little foolish bird can try her wings, before she attempts the long flight from Worcester to Warwick.”

The Bishop rose, crossed the cell, and knelt long, in prayer, before the crucifix.

When he turned toward the door, the Prioress said:  “I pray you, give me your blessing, Reverend Father, before you go.”

She knelt, and the Bishop extended his hand over her bowed head.

Expecting a Latin formula, she was almost startled when tender words, in the English tongue, fell softly from the Bishop’s lips.

“The Lord bless thee, and keep thee; and grant unto thee grace and strength to choose and to do the harder part, when the harder part is His will for thee.”

After which:  “Benedictio Domini sit vobiscum,” said the Bishop; and made the sign of the cross over the bowed head of the Prioress.

CHAPTER XX

HOLLY AND MISTLETOE

Symon, Bishop of Worcester, had bidden Sir Hugh d’Argent to sup with him at the Palace.

It was upon the second day after the Bishop’s conversation with the Prioress in the Convent at Whytstone; the evening of the Nun’s Play Day, granted in honour of his visit.

The Bishop and the Knight supped together, with much stately ceremony, in the great banqueting hall.

Knowing the Bishop’s love of the beautiful, and his habit of being punctilious in matters of array and deportment, acquired no doubt during his lengthy sojourns in France and Italy, the Knight had donned his finest court suit—­white satin, embroidered with silver; jewelled collar, belt, and shoes; a small-sword of exquisite workmanship at his side.  A white cloak, also richly embroidered with silver, hung from his shoulders; white silk hose set off the shapely length of his limbs.  The blood-red gleam of the magnificent rubies on his breast, sword-belt, and shoe-buckles, were the only points of colour in his attire.

The Bishop’s keen eyes noted with quiet pleasure how greatly this somewhat fantastically beautiful dress enhanced the dark splendour of the Knight’s noble countenance, displayed his superb carriage, and shewed off the supple grace of his limbs, which, in his ordinary garb, rather gave the idea of massive strength alone.