John.  I’d like to know where you would find a better one nor master for to give your heart to, mistress?

Julia.  May be I have not far to search.

John. [Taking up the basket.] You’re a rare tricksy maid as ever I did see.  Tricksy and tossy too.

Julia.  There—­that’s enough, John.  Suppose you set off home and tell your master he can hang up his meat again in the larder, for all that it concerns me.

John.  I’ll be blowed if I do say anything of the sort, mistress.  I shall get and tell Master William as you be giving a bit of thought to the matter, and that jowls not being to your fancy, ’tis very like as a dish of trotters may prove acceptabler.

Julia.  Say what you like, John.  Only let me bide quiet in this good forest now.  I want to be with my thoughts.

John. [Preparing to go and speaking aloud to himself.] Her’s a wonderful contrary bird to be sure.  And bain’t a shy one neither, what gets timid and flustered and is easily netted.  My word, but me and master has a job before us for to catch she.

Julia.  I hear you, and ’tis very rudely that you talk.  There’s an old saying that I never could see the meaning of before, but now I think ’tis clear, “Like master, like man,” they say.  I’ll have none of Master William, and you can tell him so.

[John goes out angrily.  Julia sits down again on the bench and begins to sing.

Julia. [Singing.]

My gardener stood by
And told me to take great care,
For in the middle of a red rose-bud
There grows a sharp thorn there.

[Laura comes slowly forward, carrying the basket of vegetables on one arm.  She holds a handkerchief to her face and is crying.

Julia.  Why, Laura, what has made you cry so sadly?

Laura.  O, Julia, ’twas a rare red rose as I held in my hand, and a rare cruel thorn that came from it and did prick me.

Julia.  And a rare basket of green stuff that you have been getting.

Laura. [Sinking down on the seat, and weeping violently.] His dear gift to me!

Julia. [Looking into the basket.] O a wonderful fine gift, to be sure.  Young carrots and spring cabbage.  I’ve had a gift offered too—­but mine was jowls.

Laura.  Jowls.  O, and did you not take them?

Julia.  No, I sent them back to the giver, with the dry heart which was along with them in the same basket.

Laura.  O Julia, how could you be so hard and cruel?

Julia.  Come, wouldn’t you have done the same?

Laura. [Sobbing vehemently.] That I should not, Julia.

Julia.  Perhaps you’ve seen the gentleman then?

Laura.  I have.  And O, Julia, he is a beautiful gentleman.  I never saw one that was his like.