Martha (quickly). There is no need, Paul. I will go with Ann. I want to borrow a hood pattern of Goodwife Nourse on the way.
Paul. But will you not be afraid, goodwife?
Martha. Afraid, and the moon at a good half, and only a short way to go?
Paul. But you have to go through the wood.
Martha. The wood! A stretch as long as this room—six ash-trees, one butternut, and a birch sapling thrown in for a witch spectre. Say no more, Paul. Sit you down and keep Olive company. I will go, if only for the sake of showing these silly little hussies that there is no call for a gospel woman with prayer in her heart to be afraid of anything but the wrath of God. [Puts a blanket over her head.
Ann. I want no company at all, Goodwife Corey.
Phœbe. Aunt Corey, let me go, too; my stint is done.
Martha. Nay, you must to bed, and Nancy too. Off with ye, and no words.
Nancy. I'm none so old that I must needs be sent to bed like a babe, I'd have you know that, Goody Corey. [Sets away apple pan; exit, with Phœbe following sulkily.
Martha. Come, Ann.