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2nd S.W. Is that true? I will stitch hard if—Master Fiddler will play.

Fiddler. All work, not forgetting the business of eating, goes better to music. [Begins to play, walking up and down the room.]

2nd S.W. [laughing]. I cannot sew. There is an itch in my ankles.

1st S.W. Fudge!

2nd S.W. Do you think it is the plague that I have?

Fiddler. It means that you must dance and not sew.

[2nd S.W., jumping up, gathers up her petticoats, and prances in time. The Fiddler plays on, and the youth, entering with napery, thrusts it on to the large table and joins the dance.]

2nd S.W. Faster, Master Fiddler, till feet are as hot as toasts.

[In the middle of it, with a jingle of keys and a rustle of skirts, enter my Lady of Shrewsbury with a long roll of paper in her hands.]

Bess [in the doorway]. Is this how my command is obeyed?

[The music dies away with a trickle, the dancers fall back against the wall.]

1st S.W. [rises and curtsies]. Richardyne’s feet were cold, my Lady, and she danced to save them from blains.