“Is that thy fantasy of a queen, Meg?” asked Clare, laughing. “Truly, I had thought the poor lady should have heavier concernments than so.”
“Well!” said Blanche, in a confidential whisper, “I am never like to be a queen; but I will show you one thing,—I would right dearly love to be presented in the Queen’s Majesty’s Court.”
“Dear heart!—Presented, quotha!” exclaimed Margaret. “Prithee, take not me withal.”
“Nay, I will take these holy sisters,” said Blanche, merrily. “What say ye, Clare and Lysken?”
“I have no care to be in the Court, I thank thee,” quietly replied Clare.
“I shall be, some day,” observed Lysken, calmly, without lifting her head.
“Thou!—presented in the Court!” cried Blanche.
For of all the five, girls, Lysken was much the most unlikely ever to attain that eminence.
“Even so,” she said, unmoved.
“Hast thou had promise thereof?”