The Chevalier's Daughter by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

I SLEPT till afternoon, and when I waked I could not at first tell where I was, everything about me was so utterly different from anything I had been used to. My bed was surrounded by light curtains of blue and white checked linen, and through these at the foot I could see that the hangings of the latticed window were of the same. The bed was covered with a white spread worked with a curious pattern in colored crewels. Everything was very quiet, but I could hear the distant hum of a spinning-wheel, and the singing of a robin outside my window.

I lay quietly a long time, half asleep and dreaming, half bewildered, feeling as if I had died and wakened into a new world, of which all I knew was that it was safe and friendly. At last I raised myself, put aside the curtain, and looked out.