And after them came a sweet lass leaning upon her brother’s arm. Her hair did shine like glistering gold, and her eyes were like blue violets that peep out shyly at the sun. The color came and went in her cheeks like that tinting of a sea-shell, and her face was flushed as though she had been weeping. But now she walked with a proud air, as though she defied the world to crush her spirit. She had but two maids with her, finikin lasses, with black eyes and broad bosoms, who set off their lady’s more delicate beauty well. One held up the bride’s gown from the ground; the other carried flowers in plenty. “Now by all the wedding bells that ever were rung!” quoth Robin boldly, “this is the worst matched pair that ever mine eyes beheld!” “Silence, miscreant!” said a man who stood near. The Bishop had hurriedly donned his gown and now stood ready to meet the couple at the chancel. But Robin paid no heed to him. He let the knight and his ten archers pass by, then he strode up to the bride, and placed himself on the other side from her brother. “Courage, lady!” he whispered, “there is another minstrel near, who mayhap may play more to your liking.” The lady glanced at him with a frightened air, but read such honesty and kindness in his glance that she brightened and gave him a grateful look. “Stand aside, fool!” cried the brother wrathfully. “Nay, but I am to bring good fortune to the bride by accompanying her through the church-doors,” said Robin laughing. Thereupon he was allowed to walk by her side unmolested, up to the chancel with the party. “Now strike up your music, fellow!” ordered the Bishop. “Right gladly will I,” quoth Robin, “an you will let me choose my instrument. For sometimes I like the harp, and other times I think the horn makes the merriest music in all the world.” And he drew forth his bugle from underneath his green cloak and blew three winding notes that made the church--rafters ring again. “Seize him!” yelled the Bishop; “there’s mischief afoot! These are the tricks of Robin Hood!” The ten liveried archers rushed forward from the rear of the church, where they had been stationed. But their rush was blocked by the onlookers who now rose from their pews in alarm and crowded the aisles. Meanwhile Robin had leaped lightly over the chancel rail and stationed himself in a nook by the altar. “Stand where you are!” he shouted, drawing his bow, “the first man to pass the rail dies the death. And all ye who have come to witness a wedding stay in your seats. We shall e’en have one, since we are come into the church. But the bride shall choose her own swain!” Then up rose another great commotion at the door, and four-and-twenty good bowmen came marching in with Will Stutely at their head. And they seized the ten liveried archers and the bride’s scowling brother and the other men on guard and bound them prisoners.