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At this moment the Notary was tarrying there in marvellous array,

and proffering his services to his betrothed lady: he bustled

about and handed her signet rings, little chains, gallipots and

bottles and powders and patches; gay at heart, he gazed in

triumph on the young damsel. The young damsel had finished making

her toilet, and was sitting before the mirror taking counsel of

the Graces; but the maids were still toiling over her, some with

curling irons in their hands were freshening the limp ringlets of

her tresses, others, on their knees, were working at a flounce.