babe, I'd have you know that, Goody Corey. [_Sets away apple pan;
exit, with_ Phoebe _following sulkily._

_Martha._ Come, Ann.

_Ann._ I want no company. I have more fear with company than I have
alone.

_Martha._ Along with you, child.

_Olive._ Oh, Ann, you are forgetting your cape. Here, mother, you
carry it for her. Good-night, sweetheart.

_Ann._ I want no company, Goodwife Corey. [Martha _takes her
laughingly by the arm and leads her out._

_Paul._ It is a fine night out.

_Olive._ So I have heard.

_Paul._ You make a jest of me, Mistress Olive. Know you not when a
man is of a sudden left alone with a fair maid, he needs to try his
speech like a player his fiddle, to see if it be in good tune for
her ears; and what better way than to sound over and over again the
praise of the fine weather? What ailed Ann that she seemed so
strangely, Olive?

_Olive._ I know not. I think she had been overwrought by coming
alone through the woods.