31
‘Good speed, blithe Cisse,’ quoth that old lasse;
‘God dild yee,’ quoth Cisley againe;
‘How done you, nant Ione?’ she said,
‘Tell me it, I am faine.’
32
The good old Ione said weele she was,
‘And commen in an arrand till you;
For you must to my cottage gone,
Full quick, I tell you true;