Phyllis. "How much tobacco?"

Corydon. "Three acres, hinny, though I dinna drink the weed
mysel'. I'm a Stewart, woman, an' the King's puir cousin."

Phyllis. "What household plenishing?"

Corydon. "Ane large bed, ane flock bed, ane trundle bed, ane
chest, ane trunk, ane leather cairpet, sax cawfskin chairs an'
twa-three rush, five pair o' sheets an' auchteen dowlas napkins, sax
alchemy spunes" -

Phyllis. "I'll take you."

At the far end of the meadow, near to the fort, I met young Hamor,
alone, flushed, and hurrying back to the more populous part of the
field.

"Not yet mated?" I asked. "Where are the maids' eyes?"

"By - !" he answered, with an angry laugh. "If they're all like the
sample I've just left, I'll buy me a squaw from the Paspaheghs!"

I smiled. "So your wooing has not prospered?"

His vanity took fire. "I have not wooed in earnest," he said
carelessly, and hitched forward his cloak of sky-blue tuftaffeta
with an air. "I sheered off quickly enough, I warrant you, when I
found the nature of the commodity I had to deal with."