With a trilling laugh, half-suppressed, she spoke at last.
"A penny for your thoughts, Master Shakespeare!" she said.
The mood of the astonished player had quickly yielded to the girl's compelling smile, and his fine lips opened upon a firm line of teeth.
"'Show me first your penny,'" he quoted.
"I'll owe you it."
He laughed and shook his head.
"That would I not my thoughts, damsel."
"Pay them, then. Pay straightway!" she pouted, "and see the account be fair."
"Nay, then," he replied, bowing half-mockingly, "an the accountant be so passing fair, must not the account suffer in the comparison?"
The face disappeared for a moment, and then Phœbe emerged from behind the stone rampart, dusting her hands off daintily one against the other.