“So men call me,” returned Margery dryly.
“But save for the few who were told, not one at the court penetrated my masquerade,” 211 said Francis. “Then how is it, that thou, at our first meeting, know that my dress covers a maiden?”
“Old Margery hath lived long, and her eyes are sharp,” answered the dame. “But tell me. What brings you hither, if you are of the court?”
Francis paused in front of the woman and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. Something she saw there made her say impulsively:
“Good mother, thou must be in truth the witch men call thee, because thine eyes impel me to tell thee all. Listen! and I will unfold the tale from the beginning.” And she recounted the affair of Elizabeth’s coming, the reason for donning the page’s dress, her going to court, and now the cause of her desire to reach her father. The woman listened attentively.
“Child, thou hast done well. And thou sayst that none of the queen’s men have passed thee?”
“None, mother. I have outstripped them all,” exulted Francis. “Let me but continue in the lead for a few hours longer so that my 212 father may have opportunity to get to a place of safety, and I care not how soon they come.”
At this moment there came the sound of hoarse shouting of men, followed by the clatter of horses’ hoofs, and then above the storm came a loud knocking at the door.
“Open in the name of the queen,” came the stern command.