“Naoise, my dear,” she said, “please carve for me. I am not well.”
“Buinne is sensible,” said Naoise. “He has a head on his shoulders.” He stumbled in his carving, and cast a swift glance at Deirdre.
“The first portion,” he continued gravely, “shall be for Buinne, the second for Iollann, the third for Deirdre, the fourth for Ainnle, the fifth for Ardan, and the sixth for Naoise.”
“My piece is to be the tenderest,” said Ardan complacently; “Deirdre said so. Fight for me, Deirdreen!”
“Ardan, my dear brother,” said Deirdre, “come to me and give me ten kisses.”
“I’ll miss my turn,” he wailed, as he moved round to her.
They ate their supper, and were sitting at chess—that is, Deirdre and Naoise were playing, while the others watched the game—when there came a tapping at the door which was nearest to them. Naoise held a piece poised in his fingers.
“Go, Ainnle, and challenge that person.”
“It is a woman’s voice,” said Ainnle.
“Let her come in.”