“What knight rides yonder on the white charger?” she asked; “never saw I kinglier man.” “Hail thee, fair Queen! that first of Denmark’s sons thou sawest is thy royal bridegroom,” was the answer. “It is King Valdemar, whom his people call ‘Victor,’ with cause.” Then I heard a louder, more joyous cry than before, and I saw the people thronging about, striving to kiss the hem of her robe as she stood upon the quay that was laid with crimson cloth for her feet. I saw the King bend his knee and kiss her hand and her brow; and the people went wild at the sight. They took her horses out of their harness, and themselves drew the chaise toward the city with the many spires, singing and shouting their joy; and I saw that she was glad and that the young King who rode by her side was proud and happy. I saw them walk up the broad aisle of the Domkirke together, followed by many brave knights and fair ladies, and before the altar they knelt and were blest by the venerable priest who had held the King in his arms at his christening. The bells of the thirteen churches and chapels in the town were rung, and masses were said for the twain at their altars. And I heard many a wassail drunk at the wedding-feast in the great halls of the castle and in the thronged streets of the town, where torches burned from sundown to sunrise and the people made merry through the long summer nights. Strong ale and mead from the royal cellars ran like a river, for such was the custom of the times and of the people. But before the sun had set twice I heard a new song in the Ribe streets which the very children learned with joy. It told of the Queen’s “morning-gift” from her lord. “Ask,” he said; “whatever thy wish, of land or gold, it shall be thine.” But she prayed for neither greatness nor riches, but that the plough-tax that bore heavily on the husbandman be forgiven him, and that the peasants who, for rising against it, were laid in irons be set free. And the King granted her prayer. Ever since, the Danish people have given Dagmar’s name to their best-beloved queens. “Daybreak” was the meaning of it in the old tongue, and she was their hope and heart’s desire. Then darkness fell; and I saw the King resting after the chase in a far-distant place. In the west there arose a cloud of dust, and at the sight of it his heart misgave him, for his happiness had been too great for man. Out of it came one riding fast with evil tidings: “The Queen is sick unto death. She bids the King make haste.” And there came to me the voices of women singing at their spinning-wheels as I heard them when I was a child; and this was the burden of their song: [Music: When the King he rode out of Skanderborg Him follow’d one hundred men. But when he rode over Ribe Bridge Then rode the King alone. In Ringsted sleepeth Queen Dagmar!]