Again the scene is changed, from the chapel to the quadrant. The innocent young prince is being carried by Sir Richard Vaughan. He can hardly speak as yet, but his chamberlain has taught him to bid the Lord Grauthuse welcome, who saved his father, and brought himself from his dolorous birth-place, to enjoy at once his liberty, and the sun's cheering light. That faithful chamberlain who carries the young prince everywhere, after his father's footsteps, will yet be called upon to act in a very different scene. He is attending the king and count from place to place, now in the lodge at Windsor Park, where the royal family dine together, afterwards through the garden and vineyard of pleasure, for the king desires to show his guest the many and varied excellencies of his kingly dwelling. Pageants sweep by, and nobles are presiding in halls of state. See the monarch, too, in his kingly robes, with his cap of maintenance, and right and left his lords, both spiritual and temporal. And list to that grave man, who declares before the king and nobles, the intent and the desire of the commons, with regard to the queen and Lord Grauthuse; upon the one is bestowed all honour and commendation of her womanly behaviour and great constancy during the nation's peril; to the other, is conveyed that nation's gratitude for his kindness and humanity to her sovereign lord, by the king, creating him Earl of Winchester. And surely the ceremony of that creation is one of no ordinary interest. The king is passing now into Whitehall, and thither too goes the queen from her own apartment, wearing a crown upon her head, with the young prince in his small robes of state, borne after her in the arms of Master Vaughan. And thus the king and queen, and that fair child, proceed through the abbey church, to the shrine of St. Edward, where their offerings are presented. Next, in the review of pageantries and banquet-halls, hunting scenes and revels, in the beautiful bowers of Eltham Palace, rises from out the mingled scene, the rich and gorgeous spectacle of the betrothing of the young Duke of York with Anne Mowbray, the infant heiress of the duchy of Norfolk. St. Stephen's chapel is being hung with arras of gold, and men are employed both day and night in putting up the drapery, which standing in its richness, must yet be gracefully arranged in broad folds around the pillars and the columns. All this is done, and the closed doors are opened for the entrance of stately ladies and train-bearers, great lords and their attendants, the beauty and the chivalry of the house of York. And now the flourish of loud trumpets and the clang of cymbals announce the king's approach, and the full quire is pealing forth its melody of mingled voices and high minstrelsy. The king is entering with the young Prince of Wales and the three princesses, Elizabeth, Mary, and Cicely; the queen follows, leading the small bridegroom of five years' old, her brother,