Joan. Very well, mistress. If I set off in a few moments it will do, I suppose? I should just like to take a peep at myself as I am now, in the little glass which you carry in your silk bag.
Clara. [Going off.] Don’t spend too much time looking at what will be shewn you, Joan.
Joan. Never fear, mistress. I’ll be there afore you, if I have to run all the way. [Clara wanders off.
[Joan sits down again on the trunk of the fallen tree. She opens the silken bag, draws out a small hand glass and looks long and steadily at her own reflection. Then she glances furtively around and, seeing that she is quite alone, she takes a small powder box from the bag and hastily opening it, she gives her face several hurried touches with the powder puff.
Joan. [Surveying the effect in the glass.] Just to take off the brown of my freckles. Now if any one was to come upon me sitting here they wouldn’t know as I was other than a real, high lady. All covered with this nice cloak as I be, the French bonnet on my head, and powder to my face, who’s to tell the difference? But O—these must be hid first.
[She perceives her cotton bonnet and little shawl on the ground. She hastily rolls them up in a small bundle and stuffs them into the silken bag. Then she takes up the glass and surveys herself again.
Joan. How should I act now if some grand gentleman was to come up and commence talking to me? Perhaps he might even take me for a lady of title in these fine clothes, and ’twould be a pity to have to undeceive him.
[She arranges her hair a little under the bonnet and then lowers the lace veil over her face.
[Miles and Luke come slowly up behind her. Miles nudges Luke with his elbow, signing to him to remain where he is whilst he steps forward in front of Joan.
Miles. Pardon me, madam, but you appear to have mistook the way. Allow me to set you on the right path for Ox Lease.