"They come not in my mind.

A plague of them, say I! Give me to hunt and to fight and to feast, and to live with jolly foresters.

I never heard of a maid yet that was for any service, save one only; and she, poor shrew, was burned for a witch and the wearing of men's clothes in spite of nature." Master Matcham crossed himself with fervour, and appeared to pray.
"What make ye ?" Dick inquired.
"I pray for her spirit," answered the other, with a somewhat troubled voice.
"For a witch's spirit ?" Dick cried.

"But pray for her, an ye list; she was the best wench in Europe, was this Joan of Arc.

Old Appleyard the archer ran from her, he said, as if she had been Mahoun.