The cluster of knights opened, and from within the church there appeared before the astonished bridegroom the stately form of King Edward, leading in his hand the dark-tressed, dark-haired maiden, dressed in spotless white, the only adornment she wore a circlet of diamonds round her flowing dark hair—the Queen indeed of the Dew-drops. And behind her walked with calm dignity the beautiful Princess Eleanor, now nearly a woman, holding with a warning hand the merry mischievous Joan. Well might John of Dunster stand dazzled and amazed, but hesitation or delay there was none. Then and there, by the Grand Prior himself, was the ceremony performed, without a word of further explanation. The rite over, when the bridegroom took the bride’s hand to follow, as all were marshalled on their way, he knew not whither, she looked up to him through her dark eyelashes, and murmured, “They would not have it otherwise!” “Deem you that I would?” said the knight fervently, pressing her hand. “I deemed that you should know all—who I am,” she faltered. “My wife, the Lady of Dunster. That is all I need to know,” replied Sir John, with the honest trustworthy look that showed it was indeed enough to secure his heart-whole love and reverence. The great hall of the Spital was decked for the bridal feast. The bride and bridegroom were placed at the head of the table, and the King gave up his place beside the bride to her blind father. All the space within the cloister without was strewn with rushes, where sat and feasted the whole fraternity of beggars; and well did the Grand Prior and his knights do their part in the entertainment. Then when the banquet was drawing to its close, the blind beggar bade the boy that waited near him fetch his harp. And, as had often before been his practice, he sang in a deep manly voice, to the boy’s accompaniment on his harp. But the song that then he sang had never been heard before, nor was its exact like ever heard again; though tradition has handed down a few of the main features, and (as may be seen by this veracious narration) somewhat vulgarized them:— “A poore beggar’s daughter did dwell on a greene, Who might for her faireness have well been a queene; A blithe bonny lasse and a dainty was she, And many one callèd her pretty Bessee.”