"Gallants of England, shall not the King land Safely in town to knock Parliament down? Shall we not ever strive to endeavor Glory to win for our King and our crown? Shall not the Roundhead soon be confounded? Sa, sa, sa, sa, boys, ha, ha, ha, ha, boys, Then we'll return home in triumph and joy. Then we'll be merry, drink sack and sherry, And we will sing, boys, God save the King, boys, Cast up our hats, and sing Vive le Roy." XI AT BAY Brilliana and the Cavaliers, stirred by the enthusiasm of Halfman's stanza, caught up the cry commanded and sent it rolling through the hall. "Vive le Roy! God bless the King!" they shouted, with the loyal tears in their eyes. Brilliana gave Halfman a grateful smile. "Well sung, well done," she approved. Halfman glowed. Sir Rufus frowned a little. Turning hurriedly to his companions, he said: "Friends, I have another toast for you. I give you the King's sweet warrior, Oxfordshire's blithe viceroy, 'The Lady of Loyalty House.'" "Never a better toast in the world," Halfman shouted. "Drink, gallants, drink." Brilliana crossed her fingers before her face. Through the living lattice her eyes peeped brightly. "I protest you make too much of me," she pleaded, while Halfman and the Cavaliers quickly filled their glasses again and lifted them high in air. A chorus of "The Lady of Loyalty House!" rang out, and again the toast was honored. "I thank you with all my heart," Brilliana panted, blushing and excited at the tumult and the praise. There was a moment's silence. Everything worth saying seemed to have been said, everything worth doing to have been done. Suddenly, in that silence, Bardon caught sight of Evander where he stood apart, disdainful, between his guards, and the sight pricked his wits. Turning to his mates, he thumbed at the prisoner over his shoulder. "Should we not make the crop-ear yonder pledge the Lady of Loyalty House?" he questioned. Radlett rubbed approving hands. "Well thought. Let him honor his conqueror," he began. The Lord Fawley tripped him up with a new proposal. "Stop, stop; not so fast," he protested. "The fellow has not pledged the King yet. Let him drink the King's health first and be damned to him." The others applauded, but Ingrow, noting a certain sterner tightening of Evander's mouth, interrupted. "I'll wager he will not drink," he said, looking maliciously from the flushed faces of the Cavaliers to the pale face of the Puritan. Rufus's temper blazed instantly. "Will not drink, say you!" he cried. "This mewcant shall pledge at our pleasure or taste our displeasure." He strode to the table, filled a cup of wine, and set it down on the corner nearest to Evander. "Come, you Roundpoll," he continued--"come, you Geneva mumbler, here is a cup for you to wash down the dust of your dry thoughts. Drink, I give you 'The King.'"