do her to wit that her Grace’s pleasure is to advance Maude, the scullion, unto room (situation) of tire-woman; bid her to give thee all that ’longeth unto the maid, and bear it hither.”

Alvena departed on her errand, and Maude followed Dona Juana into fairy land. Gorgeous hangings covered the walls; here and there a soft mossy carpet was spread over the stone floor—for it was not the time of year for rushes. The guide’s own dress—crimson velvet, heavily embroidered—was a marvel of art, and the pretty articles strewn on the tables were wonders of the world. They had passed through four rooms ere Maude found her tongue.

“Might it like your Madamship,” she asked timidly, her curiosity at last overcoming her reserve, though she felt less at home with Dona Juana than with the other lady, “to tell me the name of the fair mistress that did give me into your charge?”

“That is our Lady’s Grace, maiden,” said Juana rather stiffly, “the Lady Infanta Dona Isabel, Countess of Cambridge.”

“What, she that doth bear rule over us all?” said Maude amazedly.

“She,” replied Juana.

“Had I wist the same, as wot the saints, I had been sore afeard,” responded Maude. “And what call men your Grace’s Ladyship, an’ I may know?”

Dona Juana condescended to smile at the child’s simplicity.

“My name is Juana Fernandez,” she said. “Thou canst call me Dame Joan.”

At this point the hangings were suddenly lifted, and something which seemed to Maude the very Queen of the Fairies crept out and stood before them. Juana stopped and courtesied, an act which Maude was too fascinated to imitate.

“Whither go you, Doña Juana?” asked the vision. “In good sooth, this is the very little maid I saw a-washing the pans. Art come to sit under the cloth of estate in my stead?”

Little Maude gazed on her Fairy Queen, and was silent.

“What means your Grace, Doña Constança?” asked Juana.

“What is thy name, and wherefore earnest hither?” resumed Constance, still addressing herself to Maude.

“Maude,” said the child shyly.

“Maude! That is a pretty name,” pronounced the little Princess.

“The Señora Infanta, your Grace’s mother, will have me essay to learn the maid needlework,” added Juana in explanation.

“Leave me learn her!” said Constance eagerly. “I can learn her all I know; and I am well assured I can be as patient as you, Doña Juana.”

“At your Ladyship’s feet,” responded Juana quietly, using her customary formula. She felt the suggestion highly improper and exceedingly absurd, but she was far too great a courtier to say so.

“Come hither!” said Constance gleefully, beckoning to Maude. “Sue (follow) thou me unto Dame Agnes de La Marche her chamber. I would fain talk with thee.”

Maude glanced at Juana for permission.

“Sue thou the Señorita Doña Constança,” was the reply. “Be thou ware not to gainsay her in any thing.”

There was little need of the warning, for Maude was completely enthralled. She followed her Fairy Queen in silence into the room where Dame Agnes still sat spinning.

“Sit thou down on yonder stool,” said Constance. “My gracious Ladyship will take this giant’s chair. (I have learned my lesson, Dame Agnes.) Now—where is thy mother?”

“A fathom underground.”

“Poor Maude! hast no mother?—And thy father?”

“Never had I.”

“And thy brethren and sustren?” (Sisters.)

“Ne had I never none.”

“Maiden!” interjected Dame Agnes, “wist not how to speak unto a damosel of high degree? Thou shalt say ‘Lady’ or ‘Madam.’”

“‘Lady’ or ‘Madam,’” repeated Maude obediently.

“How long hast washed yonder pans?” asked Constance, leaning her head on the arm of the chair.

“‘Lady’ or ‘Madam,’” answered Maude, remembering her lesson, “by the space of ten months.”

“The sely hilding!” (sely=simple, hilding=young person of either sex) exclaimed Agnes; while Constance flung herself into another attitude, and laughed with great enjoyment.

“Flyte (scold) her not, Dame Agnes. I do foresee she and I shall be great friends.”

“Lady Custance! The dirt under your feet is no meet friend ne fellow (companion) for the like of you.”

“Truly, no, saving to make pies thereof,” laughed the little Princess. “Nathless, take my word for it, Maude and I shall be good friends.”

Was there a recording angel hovering near to note the words? For the two lives, which had that day come in contact, were to run thenceforth side by side so long as both should last in this world.

But the little Princess was soon tired of questioning her new acquaintance. She sauntered away ere long in search of some more novel amusement, and Dame Agnes desired Maude to change her dress, and then to return to the ante-chamber, there to await the orders of Dame Joan, as Doña Juana was termed by all but the Royal Family. Maude obeyed, and in the ante-chamber she found, not Juana, but Alvena (a fictitious person), and another younger woman, whom she subsequently heard addressed as Mistress Sybil (a fictitious person).

“So thou shalt be learned?” (you have to be taught) said Alvena, as her welcome to Maude. “Come, look hither on this gown. What is it?”

“’Tis somewhat marvellous shene!” (bright) said Maude, timidly stroking the glossy material.

Alvena only laughed, apparently enjoying the child’s ignorance; but Sybil said gently, “’Tis satin, little maid.”

“Is it for our Lady’s Grace?” asked Maude.

“Ay, when ’tis purfiled,” replied Alvena.

“Pray you, Mistress Alvena, what is ‘purfiled?’”

“Why, maid! Where hast dwelt all thy life? ‘Purfiled’ signifieth guarded with peltry.”

“But under your good allowance, Mistress Alvena, what is ‘peltry’?”

“By my Lady Saint Mary! heard one ever the like?”

“Peltry,” quietly explained Sybil, “is the skin of beast with the dressed fur thereon—such like as minever, and gris (marten), and the like.”

“Thurstan,” said Alvena suddenly, turning to a little errand boy (a fictitious person) who sat on a stool in the window, and whose especial business it was to do the bidding of the Countess’s waiting-women, “Hie thee down to Adam (a fictitious person) the peltier (furrier. Ladies of high rank kept a private furrier in the household), and do him to wit that the Lady would have four ells of peltry of beasts ermines for the bordure of her gown of blue satin that is in making. The peltry shall be of the breadth of thine hand, and no lesser; and say unto him that it shall be of the best sort, and none other. An’ he send me up such evil gear as he did of gris for the cloak of velvet, he may look to see it back with a fardel (parcel) of flyting lapped (wrapped) therein. Haste, lad! and be back ere my scissors meet.”

Thurstan disappeared, and Alvena threw herself down on the settle while she waited for her messenger.

“Ay me! I am sore aweary of all this gear—snipping, and sewing, and fitting. If I would not as lief as forty shillings have done with broidery and peltry, then the moon is made of green cheese. Is that strange unto thee, child?”

“Verily, Mistress Alvena, methinks you be aweary of Fairy Land,” said little Maude in surprise.

“Callest this Fairy Land?” laughed Alvena. “If so be, child, I were fain to dwell a season on middle earth.”

“In good sooth, so count I it,” answered Maude, allowing her eyes to rove delightedly among all the marvels of the ante-chamber, “and the Lady Custance the very Queen of Faery.”

“The Lady Custance is made of flesh and blood, trust me. An’ thou hadst had need to bear her to her bed, kicking and striving all the way, when she was somewhat lesser than now, thou shouldst be little tempted to count her