"How proud old Tristram Lyndwood seems of his granddaughter,"
remarked one of the keepers.
"And with reason," replied another. "Mabel Lyndwood is the comeliest
lass in Berkshire."
Ay, marry is she," rejoined the first speaker; "and, to my thinking, she is
a fairer and sweeter flower than any that blooms in yon stately castle--
the flower that finds so much favour in the eyes of our royal Hal not
excepted."
"Have a care, Gabriel Lapp," observed another keeper. "Recollect that
Mark Fytton, the butcher, was hanged for speaking slightingly of the
Lady Anne Boleyn; and you may share his fate if you disparage her
beauty."
"Na I meant not to disparage the Lady Anne," replied Gabriel. "Hal may
marry her when he will, and divorce her as soon afterwards as he
pleases, for aught I care. If he marries fifty wives, I shall like him all the
better. The more the merrier, say I. But if he sets eyes on Mab
Lyndwood it may somewhat unsettle his love for the Lady Anne."
"Tush, Gabriel!" said Morgan Fenwolf, darting an angry look at him.
"What business have you to insinuate that the king would heed other
than the lady of his love?"
"You are jealous, Morgan Fenwolf," rejoined Gabriel, with a malignant
grin.
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