"The woman's got bats in her belfry!" said Storm, disgusted. He sat in the moss, and gloomed.
"Marry! Was it not proper to ride pillion, even with him my husband? Or to have my arm around him, with fingers creeping up under his jerkin, for it was cruel cold, to pull the fur on his chin?"
Storm gave examples of the latest bargese, but Rain put her fingers to her ears and went on, most demure.
"Of course my man had his servant to ride behind him, and a Devon lass, good Betsy, riding cockhorse with our baby son in her arms."
"Take leave of her senses!" was Storm's despairing comment.
"Strewth," she observed, "or so they said in Jamestown, for though I wore rich stuff under Dacca muslin, with jewels in my hair and birdplumes, they all held I had married beneath me. Aye, sirrah, Powhatan's eldest daughter of the Blood Royal mated to plain Mister, commoner, so please you. Albeit, my little widower looked quite smart, I grant you, in his court suit, a tobacco planter, a gentleman entitled to sword and spur—by no means the common bargee using foul speech to a lady. At least he was never anything low. Dear no!
"And after all, a Princess is only woman when it comes to mating, and John was rather nice. I loved him, so that's all there is to it, loved him, and love him still, and ever shall do—madly!"
"O-o!" said the lady fairies—"o-h! o-h!"
"Oh, this is too much!" Storm shrieked. "Shut up! For Gawd's sake shut yer mouth!"
"Methinks my little man mislays his manners."