eard say that some in the Duke of Lancaster's
palace show them favour, and it is no news that the Queen--whose soul
God pardon!--did lean that way. In all open hours she was reading of
Scripture in the vulgar tongue. Master Sastre, the priest, who my fair
cousin telleth me was a-preaching in Bostock Church yestermorn, is, I
take it, one of their chief men, and did learn of Master Wycliffe
himself. I trow he will find it go hard with him if ever he cometh near
London again. He goeth a-preaching of his doctrines up and down the
realm, and perverting from the faith evilly-disposed men and sely
[simple, unlearned] damsels who lack something to set their tongues
running."

Sir Ralph here made a remark which turned the conversation; for this
Margery was sorry, as it had interested her extremely. Lord Marnell's
remarks taught her more about the Lollards than she had ever known
before. So the Queen read the Bible in English! thought she. Why
should not I do the same? She sat wrapped in her own thoughts for a
long time, and when she roused herself from them, she noticed that Dame
Lovell had quitted the room, and that Sir Ralph and Sir Geoffrey were
talking politics, wherein they were occupied in proving, to the
unqualified satisfaction of each, that there was "something rotten in
the State," and that England could not last very long, her only business
being to demolish France. And Margery, finding the conversation now
extremely dull--though had she for an instant suspected the turn it
would take in her absence, she certainly would never have gone--slipped
out, and joined the more noisy party in the kitchen, where she found
Dame Lovell seated in the chimney-corner and inveighing fervently
against late hours.

"An it be not three of the clock already," said that angry lady, "I am a
heathen Jew, and no Christian! Time to prepare supper for Christian
folk--but when that great hulk of a man, that can do nothing in this
world but eat, thinks to sup, I wis not! Marry, I trow that nought more
will go down his throat until evensong! I marvel if our grandsons will
be as great fools as we be!"

"More, Dame," answered Mistress Katherine, sententiously. She was a
woman who very seldom spoke, and when she did, compressed all her ideas
into as few words as would serve the purpose.

"Nay, Saint Christopher! I hope not," said Dame Lovell. "And what am I
for to do now? Madge, lass, open the door and bid hither Richard
Pynson.