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Page. Upon my life then, you took the wrong.

Slen. When need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him (for all he was in woman’s apparel) I would not have had him.

Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments?

Slen. I went to her in [white] and cried “mum,” and she cried “budget,” as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a postmaster’s boy.

Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry. I knew of your purpose; turn’d my daughter into [green]; and indeed she is now with the Doctor at the dean’ry, and there married.

[Enter Caius.]

Caius. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozen’d. I ha’ married oon garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy! It is not Anne Page. By gar, I am cozen’d.

Mrs. Page. Why? did you take her in [green]?

Caius. Ay, be-gar, and ’tis a boy. Be-gar, I’ll raise all Windsor.

[Exit.]

Ford. This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne?

Page. My heart misgives me. Here comes Master Fenton.