So on a morning the dame looked on her feet as she moved about the
chamber, and cried out at her: What! art thou barefoot as an hen
yet? Hast thou spoilt the good deer-skin and art yet but shoeless?
Nay, our lady, said Birdalone, but the shoon are not altogether done.
Show them to me, said the dame.
Birdalone went to her little coffer to fetch them, and brought them
somewhat timorously, for she knew not how her mistress would take her
working on them so long, if perchance she would blame her, or it
might be chastise her, for even in those days the witch-wife's hand
was whiles raised against her. But now when the dame took the shoes
and looked on them, and saw how there were oak-leaves done into them,
and flowers, and coneys, and squirrels, she but smiled somewhat
grimly on Birdalone, and said: Well, belike thou art a fool to waste
thy time and mine in such toys; and to give thee thy due would be to
give thee stripes. But thou doest herein after the nature of earthly
women, to adorn thy body, whatsoever else is toward. And well is
that, since I would have thee a woman so soon as may be; and I will
help thy mind for finery, since thou art so deft with thy needle.
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