"Ah! I see;—this is an order from his worship, Sir Richard, to admit a certain woman, who is to enact Doll Wango in the masque. This is she, I suppose?" he added, looking at Nance.
"Ay, ay!" replied the squire.
"A comely wench, by the mass!" exclaimed the porter. "Open the gate."
"No—not yet—not yet, good porter, till my claim be adjusted," cried another woman, pushing forward, quite as young and comely as Nance, and equally gaily dressed. "I am the real Doll Wango, though I be generally known as Dame Tetlow. The squire engaged me to play the part before the King, and now this saucy hussy has taken my place. But I'll have my rights, that I will."
"Odd's heart! two Doll Wangos!" exclaimed the porter, opening his eyes.
"Two!—Nay, beleedy! boh there be three!" exclaimed an immensely tall, stoutly proportioned woman, stepping up, to the increased confusion of the squire, and the infinite merriment of the bystanders, whose laughter had been already excited by the previous part of the scene. "Didna yo tell me at Myerscough to come here, squire, an ey, Bess Baldwyn, should play Doll Wango to your Jem Tospot?"
"Play the devil! for that's what you all seem bent upon doing," exclaimed the squire, impatiently. "Away with you! I can have nothing to say to you!"
"You gave me the same promise at the Castle at Preston last night," said Dame Tetlow.
"I had been drinking, and knew not what I said," rejoined Nicholas, angrily.
"Boh yo promised me a few minutes ago, an yo're sober enough now," cried Nance.