hould
not get you to bed the quicker, whatever I knew. Softly, Joan; softly!"

One last effort and they stood within a long, low-beamed chamber, whose
leaded panes shone no more brightly than the polished floor below them.
In the centre a great posted bed reared its snowy canopy, and copper
jars of water and piles of linen and other washing gear reminded her
that she was unworthy of that white bed. On the deep window-sill bloomed
pots of gay flowers, and the tall chairs with winged backs were covered
with dim prints pictured with strange birds and lions.

"Now," said the Dame, "undress her and into the bed!"

"But I am not clean," she said; "I am dusty from the street."

"Then we will wash you clean," said the Dame. "Joan, go get warm water,
child, and the great copper, and make haste with fresh sheets; Lotte
will help you."

Deftly she was undressed and her chilled body was chafed and rubbed till
Joan and another girl came staggering under a great copper bowl a yard
wide. They filled it with steaming water which, as she crouched in it,
the Dame poured over her shaking shoulders.

"How white she is," the girls whispered; "how soft her skin must be!"

"Run Lotte," cried the Dame, "and bring me the ruby cordial from the
cordial-room, and you, Joan, get the little copper pannikin and heat
that bit of broth by the hob and warm the bedgown with the lace your
mother made for me!"

The ruby cordial was poured into the bath and a sweet and penetrating
odour filled the room. It seemed that her bones ceased to ache from that
moment, and when, wrapped in the warmed gown, nestled in fragrant
sheets, she sipped at the hot broth Joan held to her lips while Lotte
braided her long hair, a peace she had not known fell down upon her, and
pillowing her head gently she fell into a deep and restful sleep.

She was wakened by the cooing of many doves and the broad sun of
middle-morning that streamed across her white bed. Her mind was as clear
as the mind of a child and she laughed a little as she sprang from the
great deep bed and put on the clean short petticoat and buckled shoes
that lay beside it, glad that her own dusty garments were not there. She
wound her long braids about her head and pinned a blue kerchief over her
shoulders, then she slipped down the stairs and through the great
kitchen with its twinkling pans and sanded stone floor. A woman, bent
over the wide fireplace, turned her head in its white cap and spoke to
her: