That eve stood I upon tenterhooks. As the saints would have it, the Queen was a-broidering a certain work whereon Dame Elizabeth wrought with her: and for once in my life I thanked the said hallows [saints] for Dame Elizabeth's laziness. "Dame Cicely," quoth she, "an' you be not sore pressed for time, pray you, thread me a two-three needles. I wis not how it befalleth, but thread a neeld can I never." I could have told her well that _how_, for whenso she threadeth a neeld she maketh no bones of the eye, but thrusteth forward the thread any whither it shall go, on the chance that it shall hit, which by times it doth: I should not marvel an' she essayed to thread the point. Howbeit, her ill husbandry was right then mine encheson [Note 6]. "Look you," said I, "I can bring my work to that end of the chamber; then shall I be at hand to thread your neeld as it shall be voided." "Verily, you be gent therein," saith she. The which I fear I was little. Howbeit, there sat I, a-threading Dame Elizabeth her neeld, now with red silk and now with black, as she lacked, and under all having care that I rubbed not my left eye, the which I felt strong desire to frote [rub]. I marvel how it was, for the hour over, I had no list to touch it all the even. My task turned out light enough, for my Lord of March was playing of tables [backgammon] with Sir Edward de Bohun, and never left his seat for all the hour: and the Queen wrought peacefully on her golden vulture, and moved no more than he. When I saw it was five o' the clock [Note 7], I cast an eye on Sir John de Molynes, which threw a look to the clock, and then winked an eye on me; and I saw he took it we had finished our duty. The next morrow, which was Saint Luke's even [October 17th], came a surprise for all men. It was found that the Constable of the Castle, with Sir William de Montacute, Sir Edward de Bohun, Sir John de Molynes, the Lord Ufford, the Lord Stafford, the Lord Clinton, and Sir John Neville, had ridden away from the town the night afore, taking no man into their counsel. None could tell wherefore their departure, nor what they purposed. I knew only that the King was aware thereof, though soothly he counterfeited surprise as well as any man. "What can they signify?" saith Sir Edmund de Mortimer, the eldest son of my Lord of March--a much better man than his father, though not nigh so crafty. "Hold thy peace for a fool as thou art!" saith his father roughly. "They are afraid of me, I cast no doubt at all. And they do well. I could sweep them away as lightly as so many flies, and none should miss them!" He ended with a mocking laugh. Verily, pride such as this was full ready for a fall.