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"Well," said my friend, "there's no work yet, Ruth, is there?" "Wark! naw; nor never will be no moor, aw believe." "Hello, Ruth!" said the young woman, pointing through the window, "dun yo know who yon is?" "Know? ay," replied the old woman; "He's getten aboon porritch neaw, has yon. He walks by me i'th street, as peart as a pynot, an' never cheeps. But, he's no 'casion.
I would not have thee die as they did. 'Come with me, he said in her ear. 'I have dropped my lance. Never shall I ride to horse again. I would not lose thee; art all I have. 'Why, get thee gone for a brave old boy, she said. 'I will come ere the last pynot has chattered its last chatter. 'It is no light matter, he answered. 'I am Rochford of Bosworth Hedge.
Thus she had pinned up her sleeve at Privy Seal's. There, however, it had not been safe to speak with her. 'Dear child, she said to Katharine next morning, 'we may well be foils one to another, for I am dark and pert, like a pynot. They call me Mag Pie here. You shall be Jenny Dove of the Sun. But I am not afraid of your looks.
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