Inside, the cart was like a bunch of bright-colored flowers. The women all wore their heavy gold ornaments and the older ones had on their fine lace caps, and over them a straw hat tied down with a bright-colored ribbon. They wore silk patterned shawls; some were deep red, purple, or creamy-white ground, with crimson flowers on it. One woman had a suckling child with her. A quarter of an hour later they reached the Reinaert and were all agog, chattering and shaking hands with Charlot. Then all at once Marieke stood before her in a blue dress with white spots, fresh and sweet as a wild flower. “Oh, what a pretty maid you’ve grown!” she cried, “Oh, Marieke, my dear!” And she kissed her again, and her tears splashed on to Marieke’s face. The men came up, ten of them, and Pallieter welcomed them all indoors, where they began at once to drink beer, and to light their pipes, and to talk about their land, their cattle, their children, and the weather. Other things were as strange to them as what is written in a book. They didn’t know or care about other things, yet Pallieter always said, “A farmer with his wits about him is the right sort of man!” Afterward they all went into the garden to wait for the procession. They drifted into groups, and the silk kerchiefs mixed prettily with the bright-green growing things. Some stayed to look at the fountain spouting its highest and dripping down on the backs of the quiet goldfish; others looked at the game fowls and all sorts of poultry; and everyone was amazed at the magnificent tail of the peacock. The pipes glowed, the gilt images glittered, and all around lay the world basking in the sun. All at once some reed-like notes of music sounded through the garden. It was Pallieter, who came along with Marieke, playing the oboe. When they came to the fountain Marieke held the palm of her hand open to catch the water drops, and Pallieter took the instrument from his mouth and said to her. “Now let me have a good look at ye!” He dropped his hands on to her shoulders and looked at her from head to foot. In her rosy-cheeked face shone two large brown eyes with little black points in them, her lips, apple red, curved just under the well shaped nose, and a dimple darted into her right cheek as she laughed. The chin curved prettily above the milk-white dainty throat, her young bosom was firm, and her hips well formed. Her hair was dark brown, and she had soft, pretty little hands. She was pretty! Her whole being breathed the breath of Mother Nature and the gay growth of young things. There she stood, as natural as water, and her face was an open book. The sun shone through the tips of her ears and made them rosy, it lighted a halo in her hair, and Pallieter exclaimed: “Ye need naught but wings!” She laughed, and her white teeth gleamed, and she looked down at her shoes. Pallieter continued to look at her and his heart swelled with longing, but she looked up again and said: “Play another tune.”