so practised on the serving-maid, that she wept no
more at receiving the Innocents.

He continued this manner of life for a great while, without his wife
being any the wiser, until there came a time of heavy snow, when, having
already given the girl the Innocents on the grass in his garden, he was
minded to do the same in the snow. Accordingly, one morning before any
one in the house was awake, he took the girl clad in nothing but her
shift to make the crucifix in the snow, and while they were pelting each
other in sport, they did not forget the game of the Innocents.

This sport, however, was observed by one of their female neighbours who
had gone to her window, which overlooked the garden, to see what manner
of weather it was, and so wrathful was she at the evil sight, that she
resolved to tell her good gossip of it, to the end that she might no
longer suffer herself to be deceived by a wicked husband or served by a
wanton jade.

After playing these fine pranks, the upholsterer looked about him to
see whether any one could perceive him, and to his exceeding annoyance
observed his neighbour at her window. But just as he was able to give
any colour to his tapestry, so he bethought him to give such a colour to
what he had done, that his neighbour would be no less deceived than his
wife. Accordingly, as soon as he had gone back to bed again, he made his
wife rise in nothing but her shift, and taking her into the garden as
he had taken his serving-maid, he played with her for a long time in
the snow even as he had played with the other. And then he gave her
the Innocents in the same way as he had given them to the maid, and
afterwards they returned to bed together.

When the good woman went to mass, her neighbour and excellent friend
failed not to be there, and, while unwilling to say anything further,
zealously begged of her to dismiss her serving-maid, who was, she said,
a very wicked and dangerous wench. This, however, the other would not
do without knowing why she thought so ill of the girl, and at last her
neighbour related how she had seen the wench that morning in the garden
with her husband.

At this the good woman fell to laughing heartily, and said--

"Eh! gossip dear, 'twas myself!"

"What, gossip? Why she wore naught but her shift, and it was only five
o'clock in the morning."

"In faith, gossip," replied the good woman, "'twas myself."

"They pelted each other with snow," the other went on, "on the