“Oh, Mistress, I am so hungry!” plaintively observed that young lady.
Mistress Underdone laughed, and set down the plate. “There, part the spice-cake among you,” said she. “And when you be through, I have somewhat to tell you.”
“Tell us now,” said Elaine, as well as a mouthful of gingerbread allowed her to speak.
“Let me see, now—what day is this?” inquired Mistress Underdone.
All the voices answered her at once, “Saint Dunstan’s Eve!” (May 13th).
“So it is. Well—come Saint Botolph, (June 17th) as I have but now learned, we go to Whitehall.”
“Ha, jolife!” cried Diana, Elaine, and Roisia at once.
“Will Heliet go too?” asked Clarice, softly.
“Oh, no; Heliet never leaves Oakham,” responded Olympias.
Mistress Underdone looked kindly at Clarice. “No, Heliet will not go,” she said. “She cannot ride, poor heart.” And the mother sighed, as if she felt the prospective pain of separation.