“Poor woman, she was afraid of our father,” said Cicely; “I would we could see her again.”

“So would not I,” said Richard.  “It looks not well, and heed me well, children, there must be no more of these pranks, nor of wandering out of bounds, or babbling with strangers.  Go thou in to thy mother, Cis, she hath been in much trouble for thee.”

Mistress Susan was unusually severe with the girl on the indiscretion of gadding in strange places with no better escort than Diccon, and of entering into conversation with unknown persons.  Moreover, Cicely’s hair, her shoes, and camlet riding skirt were all so dank with dew that she was with difficulty made presentable by the time the horses were brought round.

The Queen, who had not seen the girl that morning, made her come and ride near her, asking questions on the escapade, and giving one of her bewitching pathetic smiles as she said how she envied the power of thus dancing out on the greensward, and breathing the free and fresh morning air.  “My Scottish blood loves the mountains, and bounds the more freely in the fresh breeze,” she said, gazing towards the Peak.  “I love the scent of the dew.  Didst get into trouble, child?  Methought I heard sounds of chiding?”

“It was no fault of mine,” said Cis, inclined to complain when she found sympathy, “the woman would speak to us.”

“What woman?” asked the Queen.

“A poor woman with a basket of wares, who prayed hard to be allowed to show them to your Grace or some of the ladies.  She said she had five sorely hungered children, and that she heard your Grace was a compassionate lady.”

“Woe is me, compassion is full all that I am permitted to give,” said the Queen, sadly; “she brought trinkets to sell.  “What were her wares, saidst thou?”

“I had no time to see many,” said Cis, “something pure and white like a new-laid egg, I saw, and a necklet, clouded with beauteous purple.”

“Ay, beads and bracelets, no doubt,” said the Queen.

“Yes, beads and bracelets,” returned Cicely, the soft chime of the Queen’s Scottish accent bringing back to her that the woman had twice pressed on her beads and bracelets.

“She dwelt on them,” said the Queen lightly.  “Ay, I know the chant of the poor folk who ever hover about our outskirts in hopes to sell their country gewgaws, beads and bracelets, collars and pins, little guessing that she whom they seek is poorer than themselves.  Mayhap, our Argus-eyed lord may yet let the poor dame within his fence, and we may be able to gratify thy longing for those same purple and white beads and bracelets.”

Meantime the party were riding on, intending to dine at Buxton, which meant to reach it by noonday.  The tall roof of the great hall erected by the Earl over the baths was already coming in sight, and by and by they would look into the valley.  The Wye, after coming down one of those lovely deep ravines to be found in all mountainous countries, here flowed through a more open space, part of which had been artificially levelled, but which was covered with buildings, rising out amongst the rocks and trees.