There is a picture by Murillo, called "The Angels' Kitchen," of angels with wide wings folded, and star-eyes bent on the daily tasks of housewives.

There is also Brother Lawrence, who had "a great aversion" to the work of the kitchen, but "accustomed himself to do everything there for the love of God," and so found "everything easy during fifteen years."

When Lacordaire was asked why he thought it important to keep his tiny secluded room in spotless order, he replied, "The Holy Angels always see it."

The words have been in the ears of the world for centuries, that He took upon Himself the form of a servant. Has it entered into our understandings yet, that to be a waitress or a butler or a cook or a nursemaid or to do the work of them all as a housewife is to take upon ourselves a divine office and companionship.

But it is just of three women that I oftenest think. One is that beggar-maid whom King Cophetua made his queen; another is Griselda whom Lord Walter chose from rags and penury and grievous toil to be his wife; and the last, the outcast, beheld by the Prophet Ezekiel, of marred beauty and defiled garments, yet chosen for love's sake to be a bride adorned and honoured.

Their stories are our stories. We are each one of us both servant and queen; we are each one of us somewhat unlovely, somewhat unable and yet exalted. And in the servant's heart is always the radiant secret, "I am the queen"; and in the queen's heart is always the remembrance, "These lowly tasks belong to me by right."

Doubtless at last when the tasks are done, comes the fulfilment of that vision with which this book began, when the Potter's work will be finished, earth's wheel still, and the clay cup moulded and filled to refresh the lips of the Master who made it.