Mary. [Drying her eyes.] Ah, it has risen, dear John—and I count it have covered the wound of those past days—my heart do tell me so, this minute.
John. [Holding both her hands.] Then ’tis one long midsummer afore you and me, Mary.
Mary. That’s how ’twill be, dear John.
[Jeremy, followed by the cousins, enters. He holds a bunch of leaves towards Mary.
Jeremy. There you be, mistress. Fools’ drink for fools. A mug of good cider would have fetched them to their senses quicker.
[Mary takes the bunch, and still holding John’s hand, leads him to the kitchen. Jeremy watches the pair sarcastically.
Jeremy. ’Tis all finished with the master, then.
[The sisters seat themselves on the couch and mop their faces with handkerchiefs.
Liz. Dear me, ’tis warm.
Jane. I hope my face don’t show mottled, sister?