rew up a likely lass, I can tell thee! Sure thou
mindest why we--my wife and I--did come to call her Keren? Go to! Thou
dost! 'Tis the jest o' th' place to this day. Well, then, if thou dost
not, I'll be at the pains o' telling thee; for methinks 'twas a wise
thought. We did christen her Keren-Happuch; "for," quoth my wife, "when
that we be pleased with her, we can call her Keren--which is as
sweet-sounding a name as a maid can have; and, on the other hand, when
we be wroth with her, we can call her Happuch--which sure would be a
rough name even for thy trotting mare Bellibone." Ha! ha! And thereby,
comrade, hangs another tale, as Master Shakespeare was wont to say. My
wife, thou must know, hath e'er been a loyal admirer o' our gracious
Queen, and it comes to her ears one day as how her Majesty did ride
a-horseback most excellent well. Naught would do but that I must let
Mistress Lemon mount for a ride upon my gray mare Bellibone. Now
Bellibone, though as willing a nag as ever ambled, did think far more
o' getting to her journey's end than o' the manner in which she did
accomplish the journey; and, I will say, a trotted as though a was for
breaking th' stones on th' Queen's highway, instead o' getting o'er 'em.
Well, I did what I could to dissuade Mistress Lemon from her enterprise,
but a was as firm as one o' my surest driven nails in a new shoe. So a
let her go. Couldst thou but 'a' seen her when she was returned an hour
after! Ha! ha! ha! a was for breaking my head with my own pincers.

"Dost thou call that devil's-riding-horse 'Bellibone?'" quoth she, with
what breath there was left to her. "By my troth, I think she hath not
another bone in her whole body besides her backbone!"

But I spake o' Keren. Thou knowest that even as a lass she had a sharp
tongue o' her own--as keen as a holly leaf, by my troth. So be it. 'Twas
one day nigh unto Martlemas that old Butter did undertake to chide her
for conducting herself after the manner o' a lad rather than o' a lass.

Quoth she to him, a-setting of her little black pate to one side, and of
her little brown arms akimbo--quoth she, "Since the Lord hath not made
me a lad," quoth she, "I cannot more than act like one; and so I will
do!"

Quoth he, "Thou hast a sour name, a bitter tongue, and a peppery temper,
jade; and the two last be not gifts o' the Lord."

"And thou," quoth she, "hast a mustard conceit, for right sure am I that
'tis big enough for a goose to roost in! A