Emily. She’s a stuck up sort of fine lady herself like. Look at the hands of her, ’tis not a day’s hard work as they have done in her life, I’ll warrant.
Robin. What will she bring us from out of the great boxes, do you think?
Emily. Sommat what you don’t need, I warrant. ’Tis always so. When folks take it into their heads to give you aught, ’tis very nigh always sommat which you could do better without.
[Emily gets up and begins settling the pots on the fire, and fetching a jug of cold water from the back kitchen and a knife which she lays on the table.
[Clara enters carrying some parcels. She brings them to the table. Both the children run to her.
Clara. [Holding out a long parcel to Emily and speaking to the children.] The first is for your mother, children.
Emily. [With an angry exclamation.] Now, you mark my words, ’twill be sommat as I shall want to fling over the hedge for all the use ’twill be.
[She comes near, opens the parcel and perceives it to be a length of rich black silk.
Clara. My mistress thought it might be suitable.
Emily. Suitable? I’ll suitable her. When shall my two hands find time to sew me a gown out of it, I’d like to know? And if ’twas sewn, when would my limbs find time to sit down within of it? [Flinging it down on the table.] Suitable? You can tell your mistress from me as she can keep her gifts to herself if she can’t do better nor this.