Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. "Come down, sirrah, and I'll teach you how to deface my walls in future. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey.
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