"Look!" Isa, pointing, broke into her thoughts. "A mounted rider is approaching the convent. I wonder what news he brings. Mary’s blood! Look how the sun shines on his hair! It’s like beaten gold, I vow."

"My hair is gold," Matti said.

"Your hair is yellow like straw, and when it’s all cut off that’s just what it will look like." Isa giggled. "It’s a good thing your head will be covered by your wimple, Matti. Still, you have a very pretty face. No one will miss your hair."

"I hope you'll send your first daughter here to St. Frideswide’s in a few years so I can tell her what a troublesome wench her mother was as a girl," Matti said sweetly.

"You are terrible, the pair of you," Elf chided them, but then she joined in their shared laughter. "Oh, Isa! I shall miss your honesty and your wickedly sharp tongue. I will pray God that Sir Martin appreciates what a wonderful wife he has been blessed with, even if she is a bit of a naughty baggage."

"Men like naughty women," Isa responded.

"But not wives," Matti said wisely. "Even I know that. When my father sought a match for my eldest brother, Simon was mad for the daughter of a neighbor, but father had heard she was a bit wild. He sought elsewhere for a more modest girl. The neighbor’s daughter was twenty before a husband was found to take her; and that bridegroom was mightily surprised to find the neighbor’s daughter a virgin, for all had believed her not. A reputation must be guarded as carefully as a maidenhood, my father always said."

"I was betrothed to Martin of Langley when I was five, and then immediately sent here to St. Frideswide's," Isa said. "I will go home some time after Lammastide, and be married immediately. I have no reputation!" she complained bitterly.