“They may be. I would not pay three half-pence for them.”
“Bess, ’tis ten thousand pities thou art not a nun.”
“I would rather be what I am, Mistress.”
“I rather not be neither,” said Amy flippantly. In those days, they always put two nots together when they meant to speak strongly. They did not see, as we do now, that the one contradicts the other.
“Well, Mistress Amy, you have no need,” said Elizabeth quietly.
“And as to Christian profession—why, Bess, every lady in the land wears ear-rings, yea, up to the Queen’s Grace herself. Prithee who art thou, to set thee up for better than all the ladies in England, talking of Christian profession as though thou wert a priest?”
“I am Mistress Clere’s servant-maid; but I set not myself up to be better than any, so far as I know.”
“Thee hold thy peace! Whether goeth this lace or the wide one best with my blue kirtle?”
“The narrower, I would say. Mistress Amy, shall you have need of me this next Wednesday afternoon?”
“Why? What’s like to happen Wednesday afternoon?”