There was in the shop among others a red-faced woman with a cunning look in her eyes. She sidled out of the place and was waiting for Elizabeth when she came out.
"I'm starvin' too, little lady," she said. "There's many of us that way, an' it's not often them with money care about it. Give me something too," in a wheedling voice.
Elizabeth looked up at her, her pure ignorant eyes full of pity.
"I have great sorrows for you," she said. "Perhaps the poor woman will share her food with you."
"It's the money I need," said the woman.
"I have none left," answered Elizabeth. "I will come again."
"It's now I want it," the woman persisted. Then she looked covetously at Elizabeth's velvet fur-lined and trimmed cloak. "That's a pretty cloak you've on," she said. "You've got another, I daresay."
Suddenly she gave the cloak a pull, but the fastening did not give way as she had thought it would.
"Is it because you are cold that you want it?" said Elizabeth, in her gentle, innocent way, "I will give it to you. Take it."
Had not the holy ones in the legends given their garments to the poor?
Why should she not give her cloak?