"La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour!
Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. I
must wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt!
camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I am
a true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you,
mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on the
dear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe,
this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brown
earth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long years
since I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me.
But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!"

At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marched
solemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head.
They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front of
them with stern eyes, checking off their several packages.

"Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes of
white sendall," said he.

"Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying a
great package down in the corner.

"Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells of
cloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prythee
give each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale.
Three--a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells of
purple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hast
brushed it against some wall, coquin!"