"_Lettice_, what is thy mind a-laughing at? I have kept count, and thou hast smiled eleven times this half-hour. Come, give us a share, good fellow." _Mother_ laughed right out then, and saith-- "Why, _Joyce_, I knew not I was thus observed of a spy. Howbeit, what made me smile, that shall you know. Who is here to list me?" All the women of the house were there but _Milisent_; of the men none save _Ned_. "Aubrey hath had demand made of him for our _Milly_," saith _Mother_. "Heave he!" cries _Ned_. "Who wants her?" "Good lack, lad, hast no eyes in thine head?" quoth Aunt _Joyce_. "_Robin Lewthwaite_, of course. I can alway tell when young folks be after that game." "Eh deary me!" cries Cousin _Bess_. "Why, I ne'er counted one of our lasses old enough to be wed. How doth time slip by, for sure!" "I scarce looked for _Milly_ to go the first," saith Mistress _Martin_. I reckon she thought _Nell_ should have come afore, for she is six years elder than _Milly_: and so she might, would she have taken _Nym Lewthwaite_, for _Father_ and _Mother_ were so rare good as leave her choose. But I would not have taken _Nym_, so I cannot marvel at _Helen_. "You see, _Aunt_," saith _Ned_, answering Aunt _Joyce_, "I am not yet up to the game." "And what wilt choose by, when thou art?" saith Aunt _Joyce_, with a little laugh. "I know a young man that chose his wife for her comely eyebrows: and an other (save the mark!) by her _French_ hood. Had I had no better cause than that last, I would have bought me a _French_ hood as fair, if I had need to send to _Paternoster_ Row [Note 2] for it, and feasted mine eyen thereon. It should not have talked when I desired quietness, nor have threaped [scolded] at me when I did aught pleased it not." "That speech is rare like a man, _Joyce_," saith my Lady _Stafford_. "Dear heart, _Dulcie_, dost think I count all women angels, by reason I am one myself?" quoth Aunt _Joyce_. "I know better, forsooth." "Methinks, _Aunt_, I shall follow your example," saith _Ned_, winking on me, that was beside him. "Women be such ill matter, I'll sheer off from 'em." "Well, lad, thou mayest do a deal worser," saith Aunt _Joyce_: "yet am I more afeared of _Wat_ than thee." "Is _Wat_ the more like to wed a _French_ hood?" saith _Ned_. "I reckon so much," saith she, "or a box of perfume, or some such rubbish. Eh dear, this world! _Ned_, 'tis a queer place: and the longer thou livest the queerer shalt thou find it." "'Tis a very pleasant place, _Aunt_, by your leave," said I. "Thou art not yet seventeen, _Edith_," saith she: "and thou hast not seen into all the dusty corners, nor been tangled in the spiders' webs.--Well, _Lettice_, I reckon _Aubrey_ gave consent?" "Oh ay," saith _Mother_, "in case _Milisent_ were agreeable." "And were _Milisent_ agreeable?" asks my Lady _Stafford_. "I think so much," made answer _Mother_, and smiled.