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"How shall you do for a line, Martin?"

"I shall take the gut of one of our goats and worsted unravelled froh?"

"I shall make it fourfold"

"Nay, I will plait it into a line for you!"

"Good!" quoth I And whipping off one of s I unravelled therefrom sufficient of the worsted

"But what shall you do for stockings?" says she, while this was a-doing

"I will oat's-skin" So she took the worsted and now, sitting in a patch of radiant ers very quick and dexterous, and I carving away at the pin for her hair

"How old are you, Martin?" says she suddenly

"Twenty-seven"

"And I shall be twenty-six to-ed you older"

"Do I look it, Martin?"

"Yes--no, no!"

"Meaning what, Martin!"