They are both nasty.
Old mother, have you nothing nice for me?

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have some honey!

[_She goes into the next room._

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You are a dear child;
The mother was quite cross before you came.

[BRIDGET _returns with the honey, and goes to the dresser and fills a
porringer with milk._

BRIDGET BRUIN.

She is the child of gentle people; look
At her white hands and at her pretty dress.
I've brought you some new milk, but wait awhile
And I will put it by the fire to warm,
For things well fitted for poor folk like us
Would never please a high-born child like you.

THE CHILD.

Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn