He bade the maid trim up the child’s cap and make the best of her array, and presently reached some stairs leading up to the park. There he let Ambrose lift her out of the boat. The maid would fain have followed, but he prevented this, and when she spoke of her mistress having bidden her follow wherever the child went, Tibble interfered, telling her that his master’s orders were that Master Randall should do with her as he thought meet. Tibble himself followed until they reached a thicket entirely concealing them from the river. Halting here, Randall, with his nephew’s help, divested himself of his long gown and cloak, his beard and wig, produced cockscomb and bauble from his pouch, and stood before the astonished eyes of Dennet as the jester! She recoiled upon Tibble with a little cry, “Oh, why should he make sport of us? Why disguise himself?” “Listen, pretty mistress,” said Randall. “’Tis no disguise, Tibble there can tell you, or my nephew. My disguise lies there,” pointing to his sober raiment. “Thus only can I bring thee to the King’s presence! Didst think it was jest? Nay, verily, I am as bound to try to save my sweet Stevie’s life, my sister’s own gallant son, as thou canst be to plead for thy betrothed.” Dennet winced. “Ay, Mistress Dennet,” said Tibble, “thou mayst trust him, spite of his garb, and ’tis the sole hope. He could only thus bring thee in. Go thou on, and the lad and I will fall to our prayers.” Dennet’s bosom heaved, but she looked up in the jesters dark eyes, saw the tears in them, made an effort, put her hand in his, and said, “I will go with him.” Hal led her away, and they saw Tibble and Ambrose both fall on their knees behind the hawthorn bush, to speed them with their prayers, while all the joyous birds singing their carols around seemed to protest against the cruel captivity and dreadful doom of the young gladsome spirits pent up in the City prisons. One full gush of a thrush’s song in especial made Dennet’s eyes overflow, which the jester perceived and said, “Nay, sweet maid, no tears. Kings brook not to be approached with blubbered faces. I marvel not that it seems hard to thee to go along with such as I, but let me be what I will outside, mine heart is heavy enough, and thou wilt learn sooner or later, that fools are not the only folk who needs must smile when they have a load within.” And then, as much to distract her thoughts and prevent tears as to reassure her, he told her what he had before told his nephews of the inducements that had made him Wolsey’s jester, and impressed on her the forms of address. “Thou’lt hear me make free with him, but that’s part of mine office, like the kitten I’ve seen tickling the mane of the lion in the Tower. Thou must say, ‘An it please your Grace,’ and thou needst not speak of his rolling in the mire, thou wottest, or it may anger him.”