Arthur Abbott was the agent in Boston through whom this London finery and flummery was delivered to Madam Symonds in safety; and it is an amusing side-light upon social life in the colony to know that in 1675 Abbott’s wife was “presented before the court” for wearing a silk hood above her station, and her husband paid the fine. Knowing womankind, and knowing the skill and cunning in needlework of women of that day, I cannot resist building up a little imaginative story around this “presentment” and fine. I believe that the pretty young woman could not put aside the fascination of all the beautiful London hoods consigned to her husband for the old lady at Ipswich; I suspect she tried all the finery on, and that she copied one hood for herself so successfully and with such telling effect that its air of high fashion at once caught the eye and met with the reproof of the severe Boston magistrates. She was the last woman, I believe, to be fined under the colonial sumptuary laws of Massachusetts. The colors of Madam Symonds’s garments were seldom given, but I doubt that they were “sad-coloured” or “grave of colour” as we find Governor Winthrop’s orders for his wife. One lustring hood was brown; and frequently green ribbons were sent; also many yards of scarlet and pink gauze, which seem the very essence of juvenility. Her son writes a list of gifts to her and the members of her family from his own people:— “A light violet-colored Petti-Coat is my wife’s token to you. The Petti-Coat was bought for my wife’s mother and scarcely worn. This my wife humbly presents to you, requesting your acceptance of it, for your own wearing, as being Grave and suitable for a Person of Quality.” Even a half-worn petticoat was a considerable gift; for petticoats were both costly and of infinite needlework. Even the wealthiest folk esteemed a gift of partly worn clothing, when materials were so rich. Letters of deep gratitude were sent in thanks. The variety of stuffs used in them was great. Some of these are wholly obsolete; even the meaning of their names is lost. In an inventory of 1644, of a citizen of Plymouth there was, for instance, “a petticoate of phillip &; cheny” worth £;1. Much of the value of these petticoats was in the handwork bestowed upon them; they were both embroidered and elaborately quilted. About 1730, in the Van Cortlandt family, a woman was paid at one time £;2 5s. for quilting, a large amount for that day. Often we find items of fifteen or twenty shillings for quilting a petticoat. Embroidered Petticoat Band. Embroidered Petticoat Band.