"John! Joanna! Nay, by the sacred rood! where is she?
Host, where is that girl ?" "Girl, Sir Daniel ?" cried the landlord.

"Nay, sir, I saw no girl." "Boy, then, dotard!" cried the knight.

"Could ye not see it was a wench?
She in the murrey-coloured mantle--she that broke her fast with water, rogue--where is she ?" "Nay, the saints bless us! Master John, ye called him," said the host.
"Well, I thought none evil.

He is gone.

I saw him--her--I saw her in the stable a good hour agone; 'a was saddling a grey horse." "Now, by the rood!" cried Sir Daniel, "the wench was worth five hundred pound to me and more." "Sir knight," observed the messenger, with bitterness, "while that ye are here, roaring for five hundred pounds, the realm of England is elsewhere being lost and won." "It is well said," replied Sir Daniel.