“What are those round balls?” asked the Duke, “and what an odd smell they have.”
“They are my cheeses,” cried Kesta; “I made them yesterday, and was taking them to sell, when——”
“Good gracious, you made them!” cried the Duke with a scream. “Then you must be a common dairy-maid, and your hands are quite rough. How terrible! And I was just going to marry you. How dare you think yourself good enough to marry me!” and he sprang to his feet in a towering passion, and seizing his horn blew it so loudly that the four pages ran up in great alarm. “Hunt her away,” cried the Duke, “she is an impostor—a common farm wench and makes cheeses. She thought herself good enough to be the Duchess!”
Away flew Kesta, with the pages after her hooting and shouting, “Down with the impertinent hussy who wanted to marry the Duke, a common dairy-maid who makes cheeses.”
On rushed Kesta till she came to the General’s house, and at his window he sat in his fine uniform. He sat waiting for her, but when he saw the pages behind her he called, “Hey-dey, what is all this fuss about?”
“It is nothing,” said Kesta. “See, I have come back to marry you as I promised.”
But here the pages shouted, “Away with the impertinent dairy-maid, who thought herself good enough to marry the Duke.”
“And wouldn’t the Duke marry her?” asked the General.
“Of course not; she is nothing but a farm wench,” cried the pages, “and she is to be chased from the town for her impertinence.”
“And so she shall,” cried the General; “she thought she was fit for me too—it is disgraceful!” and he cried to some soldiers who stood by his door, “Here, my men, help to chase this good-for-nothing hussy out of the town.”