T was a June morning, and the sun was shining down on

I was a June and the sun was

the great plain between Ardres and Guines. On the wooded slopes beyond, wild flowers and ferns were growing under the wide-spreading trees, and the mosses were of a vivid green where the brooks rippled among the stones.

From the towers of the old city of Ardres floated the banners and gonfalons of France. Music and the buglecall sounded through the beautiful city of tents which had sprung up outside its gates. In these tents, gorgeous with tapestries and curtains of gold and silver, twenty thousand knights were encamped, ready to break a lance for the honor of France. In the middle of the field stood the royal pavilion, where the two sovereigns were to meet. Covered with cloth of gold woven with fleur-de-lis and surmounted by a statue of St. Michael in pure gold, it glistened like a

crown.

The equipment of the King of England was no less gorgeous than that of the King of France.

At the gates of Guines, in the midst of the vast English encampment, was built a most wonderful palace of wood and

glass. It surrounded a large court in which were two beautiful fountains, out of whose many mouths flowed in constant streams wine and water and hippocras.

The two kings issued from their encampments at the same moment, and made their way to the meeting place. One could hardly tell which of the two processions was the more brilliant. While the French gentlemen showed themselves more magnificent in their costumes, the English displayed more taste in their accoutrements. But, as the kings drew near each other, one could but contrast them to the advantage of the French monarch.

Henry VIII

As Henry VIII, unwieldy of body, with thick neck and protruding eyes, was assisted to dismount by his barons, Francis, slender, strong and graceful, sprang lightly from his horse and ran to meet him. They embraced with every appearance of cordiality, and then entered the pavilion to consider the treaty of alliance, Henry leaning on the arm of his host.

The two bodies of knights confronting each other must have some occupation during the interview. So forth rides a knight of France. A trumpet sounds defiance.

"You bear a blazon, Norman or Saxon. By my faith, defend yourself, for the blows will be heavy!"

An English knight accepts the challenge. Others follow suit, and the heralds proclaim a tourney for the afternoon.

It was not until high noon that the two kings reappeared, and whatever the outcome of their meeting they parted with

and from that time French

fashions were introduced at the court of England.

Gentle Queen Claude, who was to award the prizes, sat like a fair lily among her maids of honor. Between the balconies, under a brilliant canopy, the two kings sat amicably side by side, surrounded by pages and squires. On all sides of the lists crowded knights in battle array, gentlemen of the court, and richly dressed citizens of Calais.

French Lady

At a signal from Francis there was a mighty blast from the trumpets, and the heralds advanced into the center of the lists to announce the names of the combatants. There were to be four individual contests at the same moment. Amid acclamations from the spectators, bursts of martial music, and shouts of the names of the favorite knights, the heralds withdrew. Then silence fell, and only the marshals were left sitting on their horses at the ends of the lists.

When the barriers were opened the contestants rode slowly into the field and confronted each other in two lines. Then the French chevaliers retired to the northern extremity of the lists, the English to the southern, and awaited the signal. At the sound of the clarion they started at full speed toward each other and, as they met, with such a shock did spear clash against shield that the air rang with the sound. The dust rose in clouds so that the fair ladies could hardly see the progress of the combat.

By my faith, cousin," said Francis, as he saw three of his knights overborne, "England hath the better of us!"

The unsuccessful knights picked themselves up and retired to their tents, leaving Philip of Burgundy alone on his horse, he and his opponent having each splintered a lance fairly without either one having gained the advantage. These two retired to opposite ends of the lists, where their attendants furnished them with fresh lances. Then at the signal from the herald they hurled themselves at each other with such force that the crash of their armor was like thunder. Both reeled in their saddles, and again it was the French knight who went down.

Francis could with difficulty conceal his chagrin.

"You outweigh us," he said, "but in courage and spirit