and some ado had we to peace Dame Elizabeth, that was
sore grieved by our laughing.

"Will you leave man be?" quoth she. "They be right [real] silver
buttons, and not one more have I of this pattern: I ensure you they cost
me four shillings the dozen at John Fairhair's in London [a London
goldsmith]. I'll be bound I can never match them without I have them
wrought of set purpose. Deary, deary me!"

"Well!" saith Dame Joan, "I may break my heart afore I die, but I count
it will not be over buttons."

"Not o'er your buttons, belike," saith Dame Elizabeth. "And here, this
very day, was Hilda la Vileyne at me, begging and praying me that I
would pay her charges for that hood of scarlet wrought with gold and
pearls the which I had made last year when I was here with the Queen.
Truly, I forgat the same at that time; and now I have not the money to
mine hand. But deary me, the pitiful tale she told!--of her mother ill,
and her two poor little sisters without meet raiment for winter, and
never a bit of food nor fuel in the house--I marvel what maids would be
at, to make up such tales!"

"It was not true, trow?"

"True?" saith Dame Elizabeth, pulling off her rings. "It might be true
as Damascus steel, for aught I know. But what was that to me? I lacked
the money for somewhat that liked me better than to buy fuel for a
parcel of common folks like such. They be used to lack comforts, and
not I. And I hate to hear such stories, belike. Forsooth, man might as
well let down a black curtain over the window on a sunshine day as be
plagued with like tales when he would fain be jolly. I sent her off in
hot haste, I can tell you."

"With the money?"

"The saints be about us! Not I."

"And the little maids may greet them asleep for lack of food?" saith
Dame Joan.

"How wis I there be any such? I dare be bound it was all a made-up tale
to win payment."

"You went not to see?"

"I go to see! I! Dame Joan, you be verily--"

"I am verily one for whom Christ our Lord deigned to die on the bitter
rood, and so is Hilda la Vileyne. Tell me but where she dwelleth, and
_I_ will go to see if the tale be true."

"Good lack! I carry not folks' addresses in mine head o' that fashion.
Let be; she shall be here again in a day or twain. She hath granted me
little peace these last ten days."

"And you verily wis not where she dwelleth?"

"I wis nought thereabout, and an' I did I would never tell you to-night.
Dear hea