Poor things! I always fed them myself; and if Margery has knitted me the crimson worsted mittens, I should be glad if they were sent up the first opportunity.
Adieu, dear Mary.

I am just going to mass, and you shall speedily have the prayers, as you have now the kindest love of your own ANNE BOLEYN.
"Up before six, and think it late to go to bed at ten! What a countrified thing Anne must have been.

Bacon and ale for breakfast, and dinner at twelve; how very queer to live so!" cried Fanny.

"Lord Surrey and Lord Leicester sound fine, but hot cockles, and red mittens, and shoes for three shillings, are horrid." "I like it," said Polly, thoughtfully, "and I 'm glad poor Anne had a little fun before her troubles began.

May I copy that letter some time, grandma ?" "Yes, dear, and welcome.