“So! So!” cried Madam. “Such a romance, and your lover is probably there waiting for you.”
“My lover?” Alaine gasped.
“Yes; not that kidnapping Frenchman, but the one you say has gone to rescue your father. He will have returned. Yes, yes, I see, we must not detain you too long. Go now with Trynje and let her dress you up. I would see how you look in the dress that best becomes a maid.” She gave her a gentle push toward Trynje’s outstretched hand of invitation. “She has a romance too, has Trynje,” Madam continued, playfully. “Let her tell it you.”
Alaine followed the sturdy little Dutch girl, and was herself soon petticoated and pranked out to Trynje’s delight. Alaine regarded herself in the glass. “It does not so become me as you,” she remarked, “for I have not your fair skin and yellow hair. I do not look like a Dutch girl with my crop of curls instead of those long yellow braids.”
Trynje laughed. “No, but you will do. Come, I will take you down to Madam.”
“And the romance?” Alaine paused to ask.
Trynje looked down. “It is that Madam desires me for her daughter-in-law.”
“And you?”
“My parents do not know this; they have another in view.”
“But you prefer this one?”