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Like very queens. They make, here as I stand, Each garter'd leg to thrill, and toes to tickle. Come, winsome Jean! I'll have a reel with thee. Look not so coy: where did I meet thee last? We have not had a merry-making here Since Duncan Mory's latewake.*

Say nought of latewakes here, I warn ye well: Wot ye who is the bridesmaid?

Some gentle dame, belike.

Some gentle dame! Dumbarton Mary, with her Lowland airs.

Ay! she that look'd so stern, and said it was A savage thing, or some such word as that, To dance at old Glen Lyon's funeral.— But, could the laird himself have raised his head, He with his ivory stick had rapp'd her pate For marring with her mincing gentleness