Marion.  I understands that much, I do.

Rose.  Only he can’t find the maid what he’s lost his heart to.

Marion. [Reading.] The wench what his lordship did see a-dancing all by herself in the forest when he was hid one day all among the brambles, a-rabbiting or sommat.

Rose.  And when my lord would have spoke with her, the maid did turn and fled away quick as a weasel.

Marion.  And his lordship off to the fighting when ’twas next morn.

Rose.  So now, each maid of us in the village and all around be to dance upon the green come May Day so that my lord may see who ’twas that pleased his fancy.

[Susan comes up and stands quietly listening.  She is bare foot and her skirt is ragged, she wears a shawl over her shoulders and her hair is rough and untidy.  On her arm she carries a basket containing a few vegetables and other marketings.

Marion.  And when he do pitch upon the one, ’tis her as he will wed.

Rose.  ‘Twill be a thing to sharpen the claws of th’ old countess worse nor ever—­that marriage.

Marion.  Ah, I reckon as her be mortal angered with all the giddle-gaddle this business have set up among the folk.

Rose. [Regretfully.] I’ve never danced among the trees myself.

Marion. [Sadly.] Nor I, neither, Rose.

Rose.  I’d dearly like to be a countess, Marion.

Marion.  His lordship might think I was the maid.  I’m spry upon my feet you know.

[Susan comes still nearer.

Marion. [Turning to her and speaking rudely.] Well, Princess Rags, ’tisn’t likely as ’twas you a-dancing one of your Morris dances in the wood that day!

Rose. [Mockingly.] ’Tisn’t likely as his lordship would set his thoughts on a wench what could caper about like a Morris man upon the high road.  So there.

Susan. [Indifferently.] I never danced upon the high road, I dances only where ’tis dark with gloom and no eyes upon me.  No mortal eyes.

Marion. [Impudently.] Get along with you, Princess Royal.  Go off to th’ old gipsy Gran’ma yonder.  We don’t want the likes of you along of us.

Rose.  Go off and dance to your own animals, Miss Goatherd.  All of us be a-going to practise our steps against May Day.  Come along girls.

[She signs to the other girls who all draw near and arrange themselves for a Country Dance.  Susan goes slowly towards her grandmother and sits on the ground by her side, looking sadly and wistfully at the dancers.  At the end of the dance, the girls pick up their baskets and go off in different directions across the green.  Susan and her grandmother remain in their places.  The gipsy continues to smoke and Susan absently turns over the things in her basket.