Make way please

"Make way. Make way. Let me pass."

It was an authoritarian, female voice accompanied with a light tinkling and heavy steps. She clearly had somewhere to go. Some place important. And she was late.

Almost a score of people in holiday mode were crowding the pavement, admiring the little lake off the main road. But she brought them to attention. They lined up horizontally (without any rehearsal whatsoever), keeping the lake behind them, making way for her to pass.

As for her, she looked neither left nor right, briskly walking straight ahead, the bells on her collar tinkling on. This, my friends, was a cow on a mission.