The squire thought this was well and good, and so he began brewing and baking and getting ready for the wedding in grand style. When the guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads and told him to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send him what he had promised. “But if you are not back in a twinkling,” he said, shaking his fist at him, “I’ll—” He did not say more, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at. “My master has sent me to ask for that you promised him,” said the lad, when he got to the neighbor, “but there is no time to be lost, for he is terribly busy to-day.” “Yes, yes! Run down into the meadow and take her with you. There she goes!” answered the neighbor. The lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter there raking the hay. “I am to fetch what your father has promised my master,” said the lad. “Ah, ha!” thought she. “Is that what they are up to?” “Ah, indeed!” she said. “I suppose it’s that little bay mare of ours. You had better go and take her. She stands there tethered on the other side of the pea field,” said the girl. The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full gallop. “Have you got her with you?” asked the squire. “She is down at the door,” said the lad. “Take her up to the room my mother had,” said the squire. “But master, how can that be managed?” said the lad. “You must just do as I tell you,” said the squire. “If you cannot manage her alone you must get the men to help you,” for he thought the girl might turn obstreperous. When the lad saw his master’s face he knew it would be no use to gainsay him. So he went and got all the farm tenants who were there to help him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind, and at last they got her up the stairs and into the room. There lay all the wedding finery ready. “Now, that’s done master!” said the lad; “but it was a terrible job. It was the worst I have ever had here on the farm. “Never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing,” said his master. “Now send the women up to dress her.” “But I say master—!” said the lad. “None of your talk!” said the squire. “Tell them they must dress her and mind and not forget either wreath or crown. The lad ran into the kitchen. “Look here, lasses,” he said; “you must go upstairs and dress up the bay mare as bride. I expect the master wants to give the guests a laugh.” The women dressed the bay mare in everything that was there, and then the lad went and told his master that now she was ready dressed, with wreath and crown and all. “Very well, bring her down!” said the squire. “I will receive her myself at the door,” said he. There was a terrible clatter on the stairs; for that bride, you know, had no silken shoes on. When the door was opened and the squire’s bride entered the parlor you can imagine there was a good deal of tittering and grinning.