Sir Thomas, who had been to Salisbury market, came riding home, one sweet summer evening, and cried lustily in the hall:-- "Merrylips! Halloo! Where beest thou, little jade?" When Merrylips came running down the staircase, with her flyaway hair all blown about her face, he caught her and tossed her in his arms and said, laughing:-- "Hast got thee a sweetheart without thine old dad's knowing? Here's a packet for thine own small self, come by carrier to Salisbury town." Now when Merrylips looked at the packet of which her father spoke, a little box that lay upon the table beside his whip and gloves, her eyes sparkled, for she guessed what it held. Only the month before her brother Munn, in a letter that he wrote from Winchester, had promised to send her a fish-line of hair that she much wanted and a four-penny whittle that should be her very own. "'Tis from Munn!" she cried, and struggled from her father's arms, though he made believe to hold her hard, and ran to the table. "There you are out, little truepenny!" said Sir Thomas. He cast himself into a chair that his man might draw off his great riding boots. Lady Venner and tall Puss and rosy Pug, who loved her needle, had come into the hall at the sound of his voice, and to Lady Venner he now spoke:-- "'Tis a packet come out of Sussex, from thine old gossip, Lady Sybil Fernefould." "Ay, our Sybil's godmother," said Lady Venner. "What hath she sent thee, little one?" All flushed with joy and pride, for never in her life had she received a packet all her own--nor, for that matter, had Puss or Pug--Merrylips tore open the box. Instantly she gave a sharp cry of anger. Within the box, wrapped in a piece of fair linen, lay a doll, made of cloth, and daintily dressed in a bodice and petticoat of thin figured silk, with little sleeves of lawn and a neat cloak and hood. "'Tis a mammet--a vild mammet!" screamed Merrylips, and dashed it to the floor and struck it with her foot. "Oh, Merrylips!" cried Pug, in her soft voice, and caught up the doll and cuddled it to her breast. "'Tis so sweet a baby! Look, Puss! It hath a whisket of lawn, and the under-petticoat, 'tis of fair brocade." "A mammet--a girl's toy!" repeated Merrylips, and stamped her foot. "My godmother shall not send me such. I will not be a girl. I'll be a lad." "Well said! And so thou shalt, if wishing will do't, my bawcock!" laughed Sir Thomas. But Lady Venner looked on in silence, and her face was grave. CHAPTER II HER BIRTHDAY Gentle Pug took the doll, and, in the moments when she was not setting neat stitches or baking custards, played with it prettily. Meantime Merrylips went romping her own way, and soon had forgotten both the doll and the godmother that had sent it.