down for a minute, but nought ever daunted her
for long. She was as pert a little maid as ever I knew, and but little
deserved her name of Meliora. (Ah me, is this another hare? Have
back.)

"There hath been none of any sort come to the Queen to-day," said Dame
Isabel, in so angered a tone that I began at once to marvel who had come
of whom she feared talk.

"Nay, but there so hath!" makes response Dame Joan: "have you forgot
Master Almoner that was with her this morrow nigh an hour touching his
accounts?--and Ralph Richepois with his lute after dinner?"

"Marry, and the Lady Gibine, Prioress of Oremont," addeth Dame
Elizabeth.

"And the two Beguines--" began Meliora; but she ended not, for Dame
Isabel boxed her ears.

"Ay, and Jack Bonard, that she sent with letters to the Queen of
France," saith Dame Joan.

"Yea, and Ivo le Breton came a-begging, yon poor old man that had served
her when a child," made answer Dame Elizabeth.

"And Ma--" Poor Meliora got no further, for Dame Isabel gave her a
buffet on the side of her head that nigh knocked her off the form. I
could not but think that some part of that buffet was owing to us three,
though Meliora had it all. But what so angered Dame Isabel, that might
I not know.

At that time came the summons to supper, so the matter ended. But as
supper was passing, Dame Joan de Vaux, by whom I sat, with Master
Almoner on mine other hand, saith to me--

"Pray you, Dame Cicely, have you any guess who it were that you met
coming forth?"

"I have, and I have not," said I. "There was that in his face which I
knew full well, yet cannot I bethink me of his name."

"It was not Master Madefray, trow?"

"In no wise: a higher man than he, and of fairer hair."

"Not a priest neither?"

"Nay, certes."

"Leave not to sup your soup, Dame Cicely, nor show no astonishment, I
pray, while I ask yet a question. Was it--Sir Roger the Mortimer of
Ludlow?"

For all Dame Joan's warnful words, I nigh dropped my spoon, and I never
knew how the rest of the soup tasted.

"Wala wa!" said I, under my breath, "but I do believe it was he."

"I saw him," saith she, quietly. "And take my word for it, friend--that
man cometh for no good."

"Marry!" cried I in some heat, "how dare he come nigh the Queen at all?
he, a banished man! Without, soothly, he came humbly to entreat her
intercession with the King for his pardon. But e'en then, he might far
more meetly have sent his petitio