When the king came home from the hunt, he would go himself to see how it had fared with her; and when he found her almost restored he asked her whither she would wish to be sent.
‘Little it matters to me where I go,’ replied Maria Wood, in the saddened voice of grief-stricken age; ‘for home and kindred have I none. Little it matters where I lay my weary bones to rest.’
When the king heard her speak thus he compassionated her, and inquired if there was any service in the household that could be offered her.
‘Please your Majesty, there is not much strength in her for work,’ replied the steward; ‘but, if such is your royal will, she can be set to help the scullions in the kitchen.’
‘Will that suit you, old dame?’ inquired the king. ‘They shall not ask too much of you, and a good table and warm shelter shall never be wanting.’
‘All thanks to your Majesty’s bounty. My heart could desire nothing more than to live thus under the shadow of your Majesty,’ replied Maria, making a humble obeisance.
And thus Maria, from a princess, became a servant of servants.
‘What’s the use of giving us such a cranky old piece as that for a help?’ said the scullion to the turnspit, as Maria was introduced to her new quarters.
‘Why, as to that, as she has taken the service she must do it, cranky or not cranky,’ answered the turnspit.
‘Aye, I dare say we shall be able to get it out of her one way or another,’ replied the scullion.