human
Art tired, dear Matilda? asked Annys kindly, seeing her hesitate over a simple word.
gpt
Thou art not thy usual quick self to-day.
human
Heed not the lass, began the old woman,
gpt
What! Matilda not wed Richard! exclaimed Annys, astounded.
human
It's impossible! Sure, 'tis but some lover's quarrel that soon will be made up. Or else, he suggested,
gpt
Hoity-toity, hoity-toity, Sir Poor Priest, indeed, indeed! And what should such a fine wench do but marry, quotha! Nay, nay, let not such foolish maggots get into the child's head.