The attendants at the royal table comprised such gentlemen as wore Sir Richard Hoghton’s liveries, and amongst these, of course, were Nicholas Assheton and Sherborne.  On seeing the former, the King immediately inquired about his deliverer, and on hearing he was at the lower tables, desired he might be sent for, and, as Richard soon afterwards appeared, having on his return from the chase changed his sombre apparel for gayer attire, James smiled graciously upon him, and more than once, as a mark of especial favour, took the wine-cup from his hands.

The King did ample justice to the good things before him, and especially to the beef, which he found so excellent, that the carver had to help him for the second time.  Sir Richard Hoghton ventured to express his gratification that his Majesty found the meat good—­“Indeed, it is generally admitted,” he said, “that our Lancashire beef is well fed, and well flavoured.”

“Weel flavoured!” exclaimed James, as he swallowed the last juicy morsel; “it is delicious!  Finer beef nae man ever put teeth into, an I only wish a’ my loving subjects had as gude a dinner as I hae this day eaten.  What joint do ye ca’ it, Sir Richard?” he asked, with eyes evidently twinkling with a premeditated jest.  “This dish,” replied the host, somewhat surprised “this, sire, is a loin of beef.”

“A loin!” exclaimed James, taking the carving-knife from the sewer, who stood by, “by my faith that is not title honourable enough for joint sae worthy.  It wants a dignity, and it shall hae it.  Henceforth,” he added, touching the meat with the flat of the long blade, as if placing the sword on the back of a knight expectant, “henceforth, it shall be SIR-LOIN, an see ye ca’ it sae.  Give me a cup of wine, Master Richard Assheton.”

All the nobles at the table laughed loudly at the monarch’s jest, and as it was soon past down to those at the lower table, the hall resounded with laughter, in which page and attendant of every degree joined, to the great satisfaction of the good-natured originator of the merriment.[4]

“My dear dad and gossip appears in unwonted good spirits to-day,” observed the Duke of Buckingham.

“An wi’ gude reason, Steenie,” replied the King, “for we dinna mind when we hae had better sport—­always excepting the boar-hunt, when we should hae been rippit up by the cursed creature’s tusks but for this braw laddie,” he added, pointing to Richard.  “Ye maun see what can be done for him, Steenie.  We maun hae him at court.”

“Your Majesty’s wishes have only to be expressed to be fulfilled,” replied Buckingham, somewhat drily.

“Were I the lad I wadna place ower meikle dependence on the Duke’s promises,” remarked Archie Armstrong, in a low tone, to Nicholas.

“Has your Majesty made any further inquiries about the girl suspected of witchcraft?” inquired Buckingham, renewing the conversation.

“Whist, Steenie, whist!” cried James.  “Didna ye see her yoursel’ this morning?” he added, in a low tone.  “Ah!  I recollect ye werena at the chase.  Aweel, I hae conferred wi’ her, an am sair perplexed i’ the matter.  She is a well-faur’d lassie as ony i’ the realm, and answers decorously and doucely.  Sooth to say, her looks and manners are mightily in her favour.”