Five minutes saw the goodly company of damsels errant and would-be bridegrooms scattered far and near over the smiling meadow.

For the most part they went man and maid, but the fairer of the feminine cohort had rings of clamorous suitors from whom to choose.

As for me, I walked alone; for if by chance I neared a maid, she looked (womanlike) at my apparel first, and never reached my face, but squarely turned her back.

So disengaged, I felt like a guest at a mask, and in some measure enjoyed the show, though with an uneasy consciousness that I was pledged to become, sooner or later, a part of the spectacle.

I saw a shepherdess fresh from Arcadia wave back a dozen importunate gallants, then throw a knot of blue ribbon into their midst, laugh with glee at the scramble that ensued, and finally march off with the wearer of the favor.