"This a fair scene," said the king to himself, as between three and four o'clock in the afternoon he reached the rising ground which commanded the familiar prospect of the square battlemented roof and tall spiral chimney-shaft of the Rye House. "I think," he pondered on, "if I were not king of England, I would be a maltster, and live in such a corner of it, as this Master Rumbold does, without a care to fret me, and with one fair daughter, and my honest friend Farmer Lee for my nearest neighbour. But yonder," continued Charles, as his glance caught the gables of the King's Arms, "lies our rendezvous. Now, may my luck be as good as Master Isaak Walton's, and bring me as good a supper of fish out of yonder little silver stream, as he used to find under the old hostelry's roof. 'Tis quite certain at all events," he went on, smilingly to himself, as he caught sight of the buxom figure of Mistress Sheppard, who was standing at the porch expectantly, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up the road, "that this present hostess of the King's Arms, is as cleanly and handsome-looking as her predecessor could be; and as to her civility, if Master Lee's word is to be taken--" [Sidenote: Pleasant quarters.] "Bless the darling!" murmured Mistress Sheppard, making a profound curtsey to the king, as Stars and Garters stopped of her own sweet will before the porch, and neighed a greeting. "Pretty creature!" she murmured on under her breath, hardly knowing whether the sight of her favourite, or of her favourite's rider, more originated the agreeable fluttering about her heart; for at the first glimpse she had recognized the king; and guessed at the consequent success of Lawrence Lee's mission. "Will your Majesty be pleased to dismount?" she said in low glad tones, as she laid her hand lightly on the mare's neck. "Why, bless my soul!" ejaculated Sheppard, who now made his appearance in the porch, to receive the new-comer, and rubbing his eyes to stare at the horse. "Stars and Garters--as I'm alive!" "You're not alive, man. You're asleep," laughed his wife, a trifle nervously, and placing her ample figure in such a position as to intercept his view of the horse, as it disappeared under the ostler's care in the direction of the stables. "Stars and Garters! What next, I wonder? 'Tis all Stars and Garters in thy sleepy eyes! Come, stir about man. Waken up, and take his Ma--take this good gentleman indoors, an' lay the table, while I see about somethin' for him to eat." "Not forgetting a trout. Eh, Mistress?" called the guest after her. "Ay. I'll warrant your--worship. A right royal one 'tis too," answered the beaming hostess.