Little Maid Marian bopped along at the edges of the festival, dodging her nurses and her distracted father's commands. Spirited and bright, she was as likely to dash off into a bramble to chase fattening rabbits as dart between the older girls' skirts, watching them giggle and point.

"Marian! Let them have their time without you underfoot!"

The older girls and young women of the shire looked like they were having such fun as the boys and young men ran from tables to carts, to an old matron and a mother of many children, each guarding heaps of bread, roasted meat, pies, and fruit. The lads carried plates, plucking bits here and arranging there until they sheepishly approached a girl they favored with their offering.

Marian spotted a tray of strawberry tarts and made a dash for one, only to be redirected with a meaty ham bone and a promise for a sweet from the kitchens. She gnawed, not contentedly perhaps, but stayed occupied until her full tummy had her eyes drifting closed.

"Alright, young miss. Off to bed with you." A nurse bent low to lift her, but Marian leapt up and ran to where the tarts had been.

"Where did they go?" she complained.

"Oh dear heart, what the girls didn't get, the boys stole." At Marian's scowl, the nurse sighed and led the way to the kitchens. "But I'm sure we can find you a little treat. Come on then, miss, but keep your eyes to yourself, mind."

Never one to be told what to do, Marian gaped at the young couples, tucked in corners here and there, and heard low murmurs muffled by the crackles of fires dotted here and there. Shaky light flickered and hid the participants, but Marian saw and wondered at the half-closed eyes, and the way one body seemed to run over into the next in the shadows.

These wonderings evaporated when she found the last remaining tart, set aside by the head cook, who never forgot the young Lady of Knighton's favorites.

…

The feast was increasingly well attended, and Marian found herself playing messenger between the different groups. Even at age ten, the lady of the manor was expected to help coordinate events. She would learn by doing and grow into her role all the sooner.

But she could not participate. Not yet, anyway.

"Fetch the pies and keep them away from the roast. Make the boys work to find the meats." Marian pointed to a shady spot beneath a crop of pear trees. "And the fruit should stay in the shade, just there."

The group of matrons she instructed nodded sagely in agreement. Lord Knighton would be pleased at how quickly his daughter learned. She'd even tended the strawberry beds herself this year and there was enough for a bowl of perfect, bright red fruit to spare. Minus, of course, the berries she'd spirited away. She wasn't about to give away all of them. Later, when everyone was more distracted, she would run across the golden field and lay in the tall grass with her juicy treasures.

Once the tables were set the groups of young men and women grew restless. Older men drew the younger ones apart when they scuffled and matrons encouraged the girls to be patient and gracious. When they were underway, Marian watched the boys scour the cuts and joints for the best meat, pluck strings from tender roasts, and find the prettiest pastries. A few jostled and prepared as many as three plates, and others painstakingly arranged a single plate with the best of everything. Time was a limiting factor, and if the boys were to spend too much time at one table or another, they were likely to miss the offerings of another.

Curious about these details, Marian scooted closer to the young women, hoping to watch the antics sure to follow, but was scooted off to supper and bed. She reluctantly turned away and did as she was told, but not before stealing a glance to see the first boys presenting plates to the girls with varying degrees of success. One girl accepted a strawberry, biting the fruit from a boy's fingertips as his mouth fell open.

"Lady Marian, off you go! Your supper's getting cold!"

…

Marian's maid fussed at her hem and barked orders down the stairs. Outside the window, beyond the garden, the tables were being loaded according to her orders, and the roasting pits were being unearthed, filling the air with the mouthwatering smell of roasted pork, pheasant, and game. Her strawberry beds had been carefully tended and she'd plucked the last of the ripe ones just that morning, resisting the biggest, juiciest looking one in the hopes she might have another chance at it later. During the festival.

Her skirts were long and her hair was up. The house bustled as the feast, festival, and lady were all prepared. At fourteen, little Marian was now Lady Marian, Lady of Knighton and keeper of the lands and, as such, she was likely to create a stir once she entered society. For years, the murmurs had circulated that Edward's little chatelaine was as pretty as she was effective, so the entire household and shire turned out to make the day an event.

And what an event it was turning out to be! Her rank certainly earned her a place amongst the noble and landed, but no less than five earls and their sons came, followed by a score of wealthy knights and dozens of men who had noble blood and little else to their names.

"Now, my lady, one of your father's men will be near you the whole time. And don't start trying to go running off." The maid edged closer as she affixed loops of ribbon, fashioned to look like flowers, into Marian's loosely constrained hair. "I was once a girl, too, my lady. I know all the dark corners so don't be thinking you can get past me!"

Marian smiled nervously. She knew where they were, too. "Of course not, Bess. I'll stay near the house."

"And don't be letting some lad try to lure you away. Your father's paid for guards this year so it's more than just Knighton folk watching." The maid finished her pinning and admired her work. "The poor soul who takes too much of a liking to you is liable to get his head bashed."

Marian laughed and swirled her skirts. "I have to marry someday, Bess. If my father sets the hounds on every man who comes near, they'll eventually stop coming!"

Bess paused her primping. "My lady, I believe you may have struck on your father's plan. Now, off we go. Remember to watch for the crests and mind the ranks. It's your first time out, so best play it safe."

Within a minute of leaving the house, the festival seemed to center on Marian, following her closely in a churning ring. She examined the tables and sampled a nibble here and there, checking that her guests would not be disappointed. Meanwhile, her father stood by the large suckling pig and called for attention.

"Honored guests, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Knighton Maiden's Feast! Our deepest thanks to the people of Knighton and the nearby villages that joined to make today the celebration it is." Sir Edward of Knighton offered a deep bow to the men and women tending the roasting pits and tables.

"So, without further ado, gentlemen, it is a man's duty to feed his family, and that duty begins with the woman he wishes to settle with. Our light hearted feast helps the young people learn the value of community and the rules of courting. Lads! On my mark, you may begin fetching such delicacies as to tempt a young lady to share her time."

There burst forth a joyous cheer and scuffling that quieted when Sir Edward raised his hands.

"Your attention please! Before we begin, Father Mayson has agreed to bless the feast, and I have assured him that the day's events will be in accord with the Church." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "If you'll note, there's a number of guards stationed about. Mind yourselves!" He straightened and motioned to the priest, a man who managed to look both pious and jolly at once.

Marian bent her head and steepled her hands in prayer. The priest blessed the food, the fields, and the blooming things of the land, reminding everyone that the life around them was a gift, and it was their duty to tend it, each other, and the next generation. The last was symbolically done today, that by tending their women they tended the future.

A few guffaws were silenced with a stern glare.

"And so, go forth and celebrate!" He blessed the day and accepted a cup of mead with a grin, heading towards a table for a plate of meat.

In a blink, Marian was tugged to join a group of girls who giggled and admired her while they watched the comical proceedings. Boys on the cusp of manhood fairly ran at the tables, stumbling in their clumsy eagerness. Some older ones hung back and let the youths snatch and grab, preferring to pluck flowers from the arrangements here and there. In minutes, amusement turned to surprise when the first plate arrived in front of Marian.

His green and gold embroidered doublet was splattered with grease, and he was fairly sweating into the heaped morsels he held out. Marian stepped back and looked away to find another and another similarly haphazard offering. The girls she stood with, though they thinned as some accepted enthusiastically assembled offerings, stayed nearby, helping Marian to shift away as she wished.

"Lady Marian!" came a haughty call. The girls parted to allow through a handsome, if rangy-thin, youth. He stepped forward, proud as a peacock, carrying a plate full of her favorites. There was a slice of pie, juicy looking shreds of pork, and a pile of her precious strawberries sparkling with honey drops.

The youth bowed and held out the plate. "My lady, will you accept this plate in exchange for a bit of your time?"

"Good sir, I would be honored." She curtseyed low, biting back laughter. "It took you long enough, Robin!"

He straightened up and shot her a sly grin. "Well, it takes time to steal all the strawberries." With that, he snatched a handful from her plate and plopped one in his mouth.

...