Two monks were brought over from Canterbury, to make a religious seer and prophetess of her, and Cobb was persuaded that the best room in the house, and not the scullery, was her proper place. These two emissaries, Doctor Bocking and Dan William Hadley, gave her a course of instruction in the _Acta Sanctorum_, and taught her to believe herself of the company of saints and equal to such miraculous deeds as theirs. Thus arose the title by which she is known in history, the “Holy Maid of Kent.” She now experienced a recurrence of her cataleptic states, but appears more often to have made a pretence of them. Her instructors removed her at this juncture to this lonely Chapel of Our Lady at Court-at-Street, which had for some time past, with the general decay of pilgrimage and the growing disbelief in relics, been doing very badly. The removal was made the occasion for a great and striking religious procession, and two thousand persons assembled to witness a promised miracle: a promise said to have been made to Elizabeth by the Virgin Mary that she should be cured if she visited that shrine. Elizabeth was carried to the place, with every appearance of severe affliction, “her face wondrously disfigured, her tongue hanging out, and her eyes being in like manner plucked out and lying upon her cheek. There was then heard a voice speaking within her belly, as it had been in a tunnel, her lips not greatly moving; she all that while continuing by the space of three hours or more in a trance.” And the voice spoke of the joys of heaven and the torments of hell and of the efficacy of pilgrimage and the beauty of giving to Holy Church. “And,” continues the account, “after she had lyen there a long time, she came to herself again, and was perfectly whole.” It was, in short, a very clever and successful exhibition of acting and ventriloquy, and completely captured the crowd.