ISABEL (_not heeding_). Mother, a song has come to me,--'t is a song to the
beautiful trees. Let me stop to write it down, while my heart is full of
it.

BROAD-THUMB (_to the Dame_). Do not permit it, sister! She should be
working. She can scarcely spin at all.

DAME (_showing much feeling_). Isabel! Isabel! Not a maid in the village
thinks of anything but spinning.

ISABEL. Mother, let me stop! Soon the song will leave me. I may ne'er hear
it again.

FLAT-FOOT (_to the Dame_). Sister, she will bring you to shame.

HANGING-LIP. Already the village folk laugh at her!

BROAD-THUMB (_nodding_). Aye! They call her "the Dreamer." I myself have
heard them.

ISABEL. I care not what they call me!

DAME (_raising her voice_). Nay, but I care. I'll not have you different
from other folk.

HANGING-LIP. _We_ were never seen gazing upon trees!

BROAD-THUMB (_nodding_). Aye! _We_ never heard songs within _us_!

FLAT-FOOT (_nodding_). Aye! _We_ think only of our work!