In keeping with the improved status of the social and economic life of England, in the latter years of the sixteenth century, came a desire for finer and more lustrous fabrics in their articles of dress. Serges and tweeds, woven from the fleeces of their coarse-wooled sheep, no longer satisfied the fastidious tastes of the ruling aristocracy. Even calicos from far-away Calcutta were esteemed fit for royal inaugural gowns. Silk was the last word in luxurious garb. Silkworms had been reared in the Orient from ancient times. These moths had been domesticated for so many years they had become fully dependent on human aid for existence. They could crawl but could not fly. While silk brought fabulous prices on the world's market there were numerous reasons why its culture never succeeded in America. The handling of the creeping, crawling, ill-smelling worms was objectionable to anyone not accustomed from childhood to the task. Old people and young girls who were the ones employed in rearing silkworms in the Orient received the equivalent of a few cents a day for their labor. Such cheap help was not available in Virginia. Perhaps, the most serious objection of all was the lack of a suitable food supply for the worms. A silkworm from the time it hatches from the egg till it spins its cocoon devours a mass of green forage. Leaves of the mulberry tree are its favorite diet. In fact, without a supply of mulberry trees, successful silk culture is out of the question. Growing a crop of trees had to precede the rearing of worms. This took several years. Nevertheless, the directions of the London Company urged in season and out that the colonists should produce silk.