"Why," said Mark Wood, "if you will sell your self to me, I will give you six pence."
"Sell my self! yes, that I will," said Rose. "Give me six pence, and I will sell my self at once."
"But," said Mark, "do you know that when I have bought you, you will be my child, and that you must do all that I bid you do?"
"Oh! I will do all: I don't care what you bid me do, if I may but have the six pence to buy that box."
The six pence were hers, and the box was bought; but, poor Rose! you had to pay a great price for it.
With what joy she ran home box in hand!
"Look at it, look at it, Mark! This box is mine now; do just look at it. Do just look at this glass at the top: I can see my face in it, and I can see some of the things that are in the room. In the box I mean to keep small sweet cakes; and, Mark, I am sure I shall give you some, for you have been so kind to let me have the six pence. Oh, Mark, I do thank you so much."
"Stop, Rose, stop!" said Mark, "and do not thank me for the six pence till you know what I mean you to do for it. The first thing I shall tell you to do is, 'Put down the box.'"
"Put down the box!" said Rose: "not yet:—why must I put down the box?"
"Why! I tell you to do so; you are my child now, and must do what I bid you."