He had been before to this gay fair, held every May Day, to which all the rustic folks from far and near flocked with one accord.  He knew well the look of the tents and booths, the bright dresses of the women, the feats of skill and strength carried on between the younger men, the noise, the merriment, the revelry that towards sundown became almost an orgie.

But in the bright noon-day light all was at its best.  Kate was delighted with everything, especially with the May Queen upon her throne, surrounded by her attendant maidens in their white holiday dresses, with their huge posies in their hands.  This was the place for love making, and it attracted the lovers not a little.  Cuthbert, who undertook to tie up the horse in some safe place, and then wandered alone through the shifting throng, found them still upon the green when he rejoined them after his ramble.  Plainly there was something of interest greater than before going on in this quarter.  People were flocking to the green, laughing, chattering, and questioning.  Blushing girls were being led along by their ardent swains; some were protesting, others laughing.  Cuthbert could not make out what it was all about, and presently asked a countryman why the folks were all in such a coil.

“Why? because the priest has come, and all who will may be wed by him.  He comes like this every May Day, and he stands in the church porch, and he weds all who come to him for a silver sixpence, and asks no questions.  Half our folks are so wed year by year, for there be no priest or parson here this many years, not since the last one was hunted to death by good Queen Bess—­Heaven rest her soul!  The church is well nigh falling to pieces as it stands; but the porch is the best part of it, and the priest who comes says it is consecrated ground, and so he can use it for his weddings.  That is what the coil is about, young sir.  You be a stranger in these parts, I take it?”

Cuthbert was not quite a stranger, but he had never heard before of these weddings.

“Are they lawfully wed whom he marries?” he asked; but the man only shook his head.

“Nay, as for that I know naught, nor do any of the folks hereabouts neither.  But he is a priest, and he says the right words, and joins their hands and calls them man and wife.  No man can do more so far as my poor wits tell me.  Most of our young folks—­ay, and some of the old ones too—­have been married that fashion, and I can’t see that there is aught amiss with them.  They be as happy and comfortable as other folks.”

Cuthbert moved on with the interested crowd to see these haphazard weddings.  It was plain that the marrying of a number of young couples was looked upon as part of the May Day sports.  It was a pretty enough sight to see some of the flower-crowned blushing girls in their festal white, led along by their gaily-bedecked swains in the direction of the church, which was hard by the open village green.  Some other importunate