“For sure. What were men and women made for, if not work?”
“Nay, that Aunt Rachel asked of me, and I have not yet solute (solved) the same.—Clare, what for thee?”
“I have no thought thereanent, Blanche. God will dispose of me.”
“Why, so might a nun say.—Lysken, and thou?”
Lysken showed rather surprised eyes when she lifted her head. “What questions dost thou ask, Blanche! How wit I if I shall ever marry? I rather account nay.”
“Ye be a pair of nuns, both of you!” said Blanche, laughing, yet in a slightly annoyed tone. “Now, Lucrece, thou art of the world, I am well assured. Answer me roundly,—not after the manner of these holy sisters,—whom wert thou fainest to wed?”
“A gentleman of high degree,” returned Lucrece, readily.
“Say a king, while thou goest about it,” suggested her eldest sister.
“Well, so much the better,” was Lucrece’s cool admission.
“So much the worse, to my thinking,” said Margaret. “Would I by my good-will be a queen, and sit all day with my hands in my lap, a-toying with the virginals, and fluttering of my fan,—and my heaviest concernment whether I will wear on the morrow my white velvet gown guarded with sables, or my black satin furred with minever? By my troth, nay!”