At last he was successful, and cried out excitedly-- "There is the village, my Prince, and there is the Hall close by! You may see the towers from here; and that wood there--that is my father's park.
Ah, NOW thou'lt know what state and grandeur be! A house with seventy rooms--think of that!--and seven and twenty servants! A brave lodging for such as we, is it not so?
Come, let us speed--my impatience will not brook further delay." All possible hurry was made; still, it was after three o'clock before the village was reached.

The travellers scampered through it, Hendon's tongue going all the time.

"Here is the church--covered with the same ivy--none gone, none added." "Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion,--and yonder is the market-place." "Here is the Maypole, and here the pump -- nothing is altered; nothing but the people, at any rate; ten years make a change in people; some of these I seem to know, but none know me." So his chat ran on.

The end of the village was soon reached; then the travellers struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tall hedges, and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into a vast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stone pillars bore sculptured armorial devices.

A noble mansion was before them.
"Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!" exclaimed Miles.