Instead of linen hose, he wore laced trousers tucked into boots of Kordovan leather from which long tassels dangled down.

The sparkling copper clasp of his broad girdle was visible beneath his short silken vest.

A bright kerchief peeped out from every pocket of his dolman, and was tied at one corner to his buttons; and his fingers were so swollen with hoop and signet-rings that he could scarce bend them.

But what distinguished the youth more than anything else was a large umbrageous wreath on the top of his head.

The young girls had twined it out of weeping-willow leaves and flowers in such a way that the pretty chains of pinks and roses flowed a long way down the youth's shoulders like long maidenhair, leaving only his face free, and thus forming a parting on both sides.
Will he win this wreath again?
Who can tell?
"Well, Martin," said the judge, "so here we have red Whitsun-Day again, eh ?" "I know it, noble sir.