Maggie (or Mag) is notable throughout the district for her size, nearly 18 hands tall, strong as most men and rawboned into the bargain. Her features are strong and regular, rather than pretty. Her auburn hair is thick and wavy though rarely brushed.

She dresses in poorly-mended clothes that show the rough work she does in the fields and with the flocks, stained and rather ragged, save for one fine scarf she keeps for fancy and the shoes she rarely wears.

Her language is typical of the unschooled common folk of the area and unremarkable (though a Londoner would notice that her esses are somewhat buzzy and more like zeds. Her voice is surprisingly melodious and her laugh is big and merry. She can carry a tune and loves a good jig, though few men seek to partner her in a reel.

She's also known for being no better than she must, the true child of her father Fred, a notorious poacher and suspected thief of small livestock and anything that might be carried off and sold for drinking money. Like her father, all are certain she's a poacher and believe she's probably a thief. Then there's her baby with no husband handy.

For all that, she's merry enough, less likely to be found in church of a Sunday than at the tavern on Saturday night. The only ones in the village likely to say a good word about her are her sister Kate and her brother Robin and Hester, the tavern-keeper's daughter. But the most even they can say is that she has a big heart.