“Well, out with it, little sister! Who was it, if not our mother’s old friend?” “Why, Elsie, ’twas a noble gentleman that I met with them down at Bath, and--sister--he is coming over here to marry me right soon.” “Nay, then, but that’s news indeed! And what may be his name, pet?” “Sir Christopher Gardiner, and he’s a Knight of the Holy Sepulchre.” And Pris, fondling the lace of her cravat, smiled proudly into her sister’s astonished face; but before either could speak, Barbara Standish and Priscilla Alden appeared at the open door, the latter exclaiming in her blithe voice,-- “What, Alice, still in your workaday kirtle! Barbara and I came thus betimes to see if aught remained that we might do before the folk gather.” “Thank you, both; I--I--nay, then, I’m a little put about, dear friends; I hardly know,--well, well! Priscilla Carpenter, come you into my bedroom and help me do on my clothes, and if you two will look about and see what is ready and what is lacking, I shall be more than grateful. Come, Pris!” “Something has chanced more than we know about!” suggested Priscilla Alden, as the bedroom door closed behind the sisters. “Likely. But ’tis their affair and not ours,” replied Barbara quietly. “Now let us see. Would you set open the case holding the twelve ivory-handled knives?” “Yes, they’re a rarity, and some of the folk may not have seen them. Alice says that in London they put a knife to every man’s trencher now, and nobody uses his own sheath-knife as has been the wont.” “You tell me so! Well, one knife’s enough for Myles and me, yes, and the boys to boot. But then I cut the meat in morsels, and spread the bread with butter, or ever it goes on the table.” “Of course; so we all do, I suppose. Well there, all is ready now, and here come the folk; there’s Patty Brewster, or Patience Prence as she must now be called, and along with her Fear Allerton and Remember and Mary,--her daughters indeed! Marry come up! _I_ might have had Isaac Allerton for myself, but”-- “And there is Constance Hopkins, and Nicholas Snow,” interrupted Barbara, who was a deadly foe to gossip, “and John and Elizabeth Howland; then there’s Stephen Dean with Betsey Ring, and Edward Bangs and Lyddy Hicks, and Mary Warren and Robert Bartlett, three pair of sweethearts together, and here they all are at the door.” But as the more lively Priscilla ran to open it, the governor’s hearty voice was heard without, crying,-- “Welcome! Welcome, friends! I was called out for a moment, but have come home just in the nick of time and brought the captain with me.” “Now I do hope Myles has put on his ruff, and his other doublet that I laid out,” murmured Barbara in Priscilla’s ear. “When the governor and he get together, the world’s well lost for both of them.”