_Hathorne._ You are not here to go to prayer. I much fear that your many prayers have been to your master, the devil. Constables, bring forward the body of the accused. [Afflicted Girls _shriek._ Constables _lead_ Olive _forward._ Martha _is led to one side._ _Martha._ Be of good cheer, dear child. _Giles._ Yes, be not afraid of them, lass; thy father is here. _Hathorne._ Silence! Olive Corey, why do you so afflict these other maids? _Olive._ I do not, your worship. _Ann._ She is looking at me. Oh, bid her look away, or she will kill me! _Olive._ Oh, Ann, I do not! What mean you, dear Ann? _Hathorne._ I charge you, Olive Corey, keep your eyes upon the floor. _Giles._ Look where you please, lass, and thy old father will uphold thee in it; and I only wish your blue eyes could shoot pins into the lying hussies. _Hathorne._ Goodman, an ye disturb the peace again, ye shall be removed from court. Ann Hutchins, you have seen this maid hurt you? _Ann._ Many a time she hath hurt me nigh to death. _Olive._ Oh, Ann, I hurt thee? _Ann._ There is a flock of yellow birds around her head. [Olive _moves her head involuntarily, and looks up._ _Afflicted Girls._ See her look at them! _Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive? _Olive._ I did not see them. _Hathorne._ Ann Hutchins, did you see this maid walking in the wood with a black man last week? _Ann._ Yes, your worship. _Hathorne._ How did he go? _Ann._ In black clothes, and he had white hair. _Hathorne._ How went the accused? _Ann._ She went in her flowered petticoat, and the flowers stood out, and smelt like real ones; her kerchief shone like a cobweb in the grass in the morning, and gold sparks flew out of her hair. Goody Corey fixed her up so with her devilish arts to trap Paul Bayley. _Hathorne._ What mean you? _Ann._ To trap the black man, your worship. I knew not what I said, I was in such torment. _Hathorne._ Olive Corey, did your mother ever so change your appearance by her arts? _Olive._ My mother hath no arts, your worship. _Ann._ Her cheeks were redder than was common, and her eyes shone like stars. _Hathorne._ Olive, did your mother so change your looks? _Olive._ No, your worship; I do not know what Ann may mean. I fear she be ill. _Hathorne._ Mercy Lewis, did you see Olive Corey with the black man? _Mercy._ Yes, your worship; and she called out to me to go with them to the dance, and I should have the black man for a partner; and when I would not she afflicted me, pulling my hair and pinching me. _Hathorne._ How appeared she to you? _Mercy._ She was dressed like a puppet, finer than I had ever seen her. _Hathorne._ Olive, what did you wear when you walked with the black man? _Olive._ Your worship, I walked with no black man. _Ann._ There he is now, standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. _Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive?