bonnets, and their trim mustachios: they are not of our class, nor
will we aim at pairing with them. Tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day,
when every bird chooses her mate; but you will not see the linnet
pair with the sparrow hawk, nor the Robin Redbreast with the
kite. My father was an honest burgher of Perth, and could use his
needle as well as I can. Did there come war to the gates of our
fair burgh, down went needles, thread, and shamoy leather, and out
came the good head piece and target from the dark nook, and the
long lance from above the chimney. Show me a day that either he or
I was absent when the provost made his musters! Thus we have led
our lives, my girl, working to win our bread, and fighting to defend
it. I will have no son in law that thinks himself better than me;
and for these lords and knights, I trust thou wilt always remember
thou art too low to be their lawful love, and too high to be their
unlawful loon. And now lay by thy work, lass, for it is holytide
eve, and it becomes us to go to the evening service, and pray that
Heaven may send thee a good Valentine tomorrow."

So the Fair Maid of Perth laid aside the splendid hawking glove
which she was embroidering for the Lady Drummond, and putting on
her holyday kirtle, prepared to attend her father to the Blackfriars
monastery, which was adjacent to Couvrefew Street in which they
lived. On their passage, Simon Glover, an ancient and esteemed burgess
of Perth, somewhat stricken in years and increased in substance,
received from young and old the homage due to his velvet jerkin and
his golden chain, while the well known beauty of Catharine, though
concealed beneath her screen--which resembled the mantilla still
worn in Flanders--called both obeisances and doffings of the
bonnet from young and old.