Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The King's Daughters, How Two Girls Kept the Faith, by Emily Sarah Holt.
________________________________________________________________________You will enjoy this book about the time when Mary was Queen of England,following the rise of Protestantism during Henry the Eighth's and Edwardthe Sixth's reigns. Mary was a Catholic, and during her reign there wasa time when people with the Protestant faith were apt to be tortured andburnt at the stake.
So the King of the title is the King of Heaven, and his daughters arethose women who retain their faith even up to the moment when they diein the flames. The subtitle is "How Two Girls Kept The Faith".
The problem with killing saintly mothers is that they may leave youngchildren behind them, and a great deal of this book deals with the threeyoung children of one such woman.
The edition used was not registered in the Copyright Library, but itappears to have been a rather badly printed pirated version. It was notan easy job to create this e-book, but I believe the author wouldapprove of what we have done for you.
________________________________________________________________________THE KING'S DAUGHTERS, HOW TWO GIRLS KEPT THE FAITH, BY EMILY SARAH HOLT.
CHAPTER ONE.
CHOOSING A NEW GOWN.
"Give you good den, Master Clere!" said a rosy-faced countrywoman with abasket on her arm, as she came into one of the largest clothier's shopsin Colchester. It was an odd way of saying "Good Evening," but this wasthe way in which they said it in 1556. The rosy-faced woman set downher basket on the counter, and looked round the shop in the leisurelyway of somebody who was in no particular hurry. They did not dash andrush and scurry through their lives in those days, as we do in these.She was looking to see if any acquaintance of hers was there. As shefound nobody she went to business. "Could you let a body see a piece ofkersey, think you? I'd fain have a brown or a good dark murrey 'd serveme--somewhat that should not show dirt, and may be trusted to wearwell.--Good den, Mistress Clere!--Have you e'er a piece o' kersey likethat?"
Master Nicholas Clere, who stood behind the counter, did not move afinger. He was a tall, big man, and he rested both hands on hiscounter, and looked his customer in the face. He was not a man whompeople liked much, for he was rather queer-tempered, and as MistressClere was wont to remark, "a bit easier put out than in." A man of fewwords, but those were often pungent, was Nicholas Clere.
"What price?" said he.
"Well! you mustn't ask me five shillings a yard," said the rosy-facedwoman, with a little laugh. That was the price of the very best andfinest kersey.
"Shouldn't think o' doing," answered the clothier.
"Come, you know the sort as 'ill serve me. Shilling a yard at best. Ifyou've any at eightpence--"
"Haven't."
"Well, then I reckon I must go a bit higher."
"We've as good a kersey at elevenpence," broke in Mrs Clere, "as you'dwish to see, Alice Mount, of a summer day. A good brown, belike, andnot one as 'll fade--and a fine thread--for the price, you know. Youdon't look for kersey at elevenpence to be even with that athalf-a-crown, now, do you? but you'll never repent buying this, Ipromise you."
Mrs Clere was not by any means a woman of few words. While she wastalking her husband had taken down the kersey, and opened it out uponthe counter.
"There!" said he gruffly: "take it or leave it."
There were two other women in the shop, to whom Mrs Clere was showingsome coarse black stockings: they looked like mother and daughter.While Alice Mount was looking at the kersey, the younger of these twosaid to the other--
"Isn't that Alice Mount of Bentley?--she that was had to London lastAugust by the Sheriffs for heresy, with a main lot more?"
"Ay, 'tis she," answered the mother in an undertone.
"Twenty-three of them, weren't there?"
"Thereabouts. They stood to it awhile, if you mind, and then they madesome fashion of submission, and got let off."
"So they did, but I mind Master Maynard said it was but a sorry sort.He wouldn't have taken it, quoth he."
The other woman laughed slightly. "Truly, I believe that, if he had achance to lay hold on 'em else. He loves bringing folk to book, andprison too."
"There's Margaret Thurston coming across," said the younger woman, aftera moment's pause. "I rather guess she means to turn in here."
When people say "I guess" now, we set them down at once as Americans;but in 1556 everybody in England said it. Our American cousins havekept many an old word and expression which we have lost. See Note Two.
In another minute a woman came in who was a strong contrast to AliceMount. Instead of being small, round, and rosy, she was tall and spare,and very pale, as if she might have been ill not long before. She toocarried a basket, but though it was only about half as large as Alice's,it seemed to try her strength much more.
"Good den, neighbour!" said Alice, with a pleasant smile.
"Good den, Alice. I looked not to find you here. What come you after?"
"A piece of kersey for my bettermost gown this summer. What seek you?"
"Well, I want some linsey for mine. Go you on, and when you've made anend I'll ask good Master Clere to show me some, without Mistress Clere'sat liberty sooner."
Alice Mount was soon satisfied. She bought ten yards of the brownkersey, with some black buckram to line it, and then, as those will whohave time to spare, and not much to occupy their thoughts, she turnedher attention to helping Margaret Thurston to choose her gown. But itwas soon seen that Margaret was not an easy woman to satisfy. She wouldhave striped linsey; no, she wouldn't, she would have a self colour; no,she wouldn't, she would have a little pattern; lastly, she did not knowwhich to have! What did Master Clere think? or what would Alicerecommend her?
Master Clere calmly declined to think anything about it.
"Take it or leave it," said he. "You'll have to do one or t'other.Might as well do it first as last."
Margaret turned from one piece to another with a hopelessly perplexedface. There were three lying before her; a plain brown, a very darkgreen with a pretty little pattern, and a delicate grey, striped with adarker shade of the same colour.
"Brown's usefullest, maybe," said she in an uncertain tone. "Green'snone so bad, though. And that grey's proper pretty--it is agentlewoman's gown. I'd like that grey."
The grey was undoubtedly ladylike, but it was only fit for a lady, notfor a working man's wife who had cooking and cleaning to do. A week ofsuch work would ruin it past repair.
"You have the brown, neighbour," said Alice. "It's not the prettiest,maybe, but it 'll look the best when it's been used a while. That grey'll never stand nought; and the green, though it's better, 'll not weareven to the brown. You have the brown now."
Still Margaret was undecided. She appealed to Mrs Clere.
"Why, look you," responded that talkative lady, "if you have yondergreen gown, you can don it of an even when your master comes home fromwork, and he'll be main pleased to see you a-sitting in the cottage doorwith your bit o' needlework, in a pretty green gown."
"Ay, so he will!" said Margaret, suddenly making up as much mind as shehad. "I thank you Mistress Clere. I'll have the green, Master Clere,an' it please you."
Now, Alice Mount had offered a reason for choosing the brown dress, andMrs Clere had only drawn a picture; but Margaret was the sort of womanto be influenced by a picture much more than by a solid reason. So thegreen linsey was cut off and rolled up--not in paper: that was much tooprecious to be wasted on parcels of common things. It was only tiedwith string, and each woman taking her own package, the two friends wereabout to leave the shop, when it occurred to Mrs Mount to ask aquestio
n.
"So you've got Bessy Foulkes at last, Mistress Clere?"
"Ay, we have, Alice," was the answer. "And you might have said, `atlong last,' trow. Never saw a maid so hard to come by. I could havegot twenty as good maids as she to hire themselves, while Bess wasthinking on it."
"She should be worth somewhat, now you have her, if she took such workto come by," observed Margaret Thurston.
"Oh, well, she'll do middling. She's a stirring maid over her work: butshe's mortal quiet, she is. Not a word can you get out of her without'tis needed. And for a young maid of nineteen, you know, that's strangefashions."
"Humph!" said Master Nicholas, rolling up some woollen handkerchiefs."The world 'd do with another or twain of that fashion."
"Now, Nicholas, you can't say you get too much talk!" exclaimed his wifeturning round. "Why Amy and me, we're as quiet as a couple of mice frommorning till night. Aren't we now?"
"Can't I?" said Nicholas, depositing the handkerchiefs on a shelf.
"Well, any way, you've got no call to it. Nobody can say I talk toomuch, that I know: nor yet Amy."
"You know, do you?" said her husband coolly. "Well, then, I need not tosay it."
"Now, neighbours, isn't that too bad?" demanded Mrs Clere, as Nicholasmoved away to attend to another customer. "I never was a rattle, not I.But 'tis right like men: they take in their heads that all women betalkers, and be as still as you will, they shall write you down achatterbox. Well, now, can't I tempt you with nought more? Stockings,or kerchiefs, or a knitted cap? Well, then, good den. I don't so welllike the look of them clouds yonder; we shall have rain afore night,take my word for it. Farewell!"
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Mulberry-colour, much like that we call plum-colour or prune.
Note 2. They say, "I want to _have you go_," when we should say, "Iwant _you, to go_." Queen Elizabeth would have used the formerexpression.
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