That night was dancing in the hall; and a little surprised was I that Sir William de Montacute (Note 3) should make choice of me as his partner. He was one of the bravest knights in all the King’s following—a young man, with all his wits about him, and lately wed to the Lady Katherine de Grandison, a full fair lady of much skill (Note 4) and exceeding good repute. It was the pavon (Note 5) we danced, and not many steps were taken when Sir William saith—
“Dame Cicely, I have somewhat to say to you, under your good leave.”
“Say on, Sir William,” quoth I.
“Say I well, Dame, in supposing you true of heart to the old King, as Dame Alice de Lethegreve’s daughter should be?”
“You do so, in good sooth,” I made answer.
“So I reckoned,” quoth he. “Verily, an’ I had doubted it, I had held my peace. But now to business:—Dame, will you help me?”
I could not choose but laugh to hear him talk of business.
“That is well,” saith he. “Laugh, I pray you; then shall man think we do but discourse of light matter. But what say you to my question?”
“Why, I will help you with a very good will,” said I, “if you go about a good matter, and if I am able, and if mine husband forbid me not.”
“Any more ifs?” quoth he—that I reckon wished to make me to laugh, the which I did.