xalted on a tall pair of pattens before the stout
oaken table in the kitchen where a glowing fire burned; pewter, red and
yellow earthenware, and clean scrubbed trenchers made a goodly show, a
couple of men-cooks and twice as many scullions obeyed her behests--only
the superior of the two first ever daring to argue a point with her.
There she stood, in her white apron, with sleeves turned up, daintily
compounding her mince-meat for Christmas, when in stalked Mrs Headley
to offer her counsel and aid--but this was lost in a volley of barking
from the long-backed, bandy-legged, turnspit dog, which was awaiting its
turn at the wheel, and which ran forward, yapping with malign intentions
towards the dame's scarlet-hosed ankles.

She shook her petticoats at him, but Dennet tittered even while
declaring that Tray hurt nobody. Mrs Headley reviled the dog, and then
proceeded to advise Dennet that she should chop her citron finer.
Dennet made answer "that father liked a good stout piece of it."
Mistress Headley offered to take the chopper and instruct her how to
compound all in the true Sarum style.

"Grammercy, mistress, but we follow my grand-dame's recipe!" said
Dennet, grasping her implement firmly.

"Come, child, be not above taking a lesson from thine elders! Where's
the goose? What?" as the girl looked amazed, "where hast thou lived not
to know that a live goose should be bled into the mince-meat?"

"I have never lived with barbarous, savage folk," said Dennet--and
therewith she burst into an irrepressible fit of laughter, trying in
vain to check it, for a small and mischievous elf, freshly promoted to
the office of scullion, had crept up and pinned a dish-cloth to the
substantial petticoats, and as Mistress Headley whisked round to see
what was the matter, like a kitten after its tail, it followed her like
a train, while she rushed to box the ears of the offender, crying:

"You set him on, you little saucy vixen! I saw it in your eyes. Let
the rascal be scourged."

"Not so," said Dennet, with prim mouth and laughing eyes. "Far be it
from me! But 'tis ever the wont of the kitchen, when those come there
who have no call thither."

Mistress Headley flounced away, dish-cloth and all, to go whimpering to
the alderman with her tale of insults. She trusted that her cousin
would give the pert wench a good beating. She was not a whit too old
for it.

"How oft did you beat Giles, good kinswoman?" said Dennet demur