Aunt Joyce wiped her eyes, but said nought.
“Say yon again, Mistress Joyce,” saith Madge.
“What, my dear heart?”
“Why, you,” saith Madge. “Over seeing th’ King. Dinna ye ken?”
“Eh, Mistress Joyce, but ye ha’ set her up some wi’ that,” saith old Madge. “She’s talked o’ nought else sin’, scarce.”
Aunt Joyce said it once more. “‘Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty: they shall behold the Land that is very far off.’”
“’Tis none so fur off now,” quoth Madge. “I’ve getten a many miles nearer sin’ you were hither.”
“I think thou hast, Madge,” saith Aunt Joyce.
“Ay. An’ ’tis a good place,” saith she. “’Tis a good place here, where ye can just lie and watch th’ gate. They’ll come out, they bonnie folk, and fetch me in anon: and Mother’s safe sure to be one.”
“Ah, Madge! Thou wist whither thou goest,” saith Aunt Joyce.