d with an
apple she said:

"We are ready now, Master Pippin."

"I wish I were too," said he, "but my tale has taken a fit of the
shivers on the threshold, like an unexpected guest who doubts his
welcome."

"Are we not all bidding it in?" said Joscelyn impatiently.

"Yes, like sweet daughters of the house," said Martin. "But what of the
mistress?" And he looked across at Gillian by the well, but she looked
only into the grass and her thoughts.

"Let the daughters do to begin with," said Joscelyn, "and make it your
business to stay till the mistress shall appear."

"That might be to outstay my welcome," said Martin, "and then her
appearance would be my discomfiture. For a hostess has, according to
her guests, as many kinds of face as a wildflower, according to its
counties, names."

"Some kinds have only one name," said Jessica, plucking a stalk crowned
with flowers as fine as spray. "What would you call this but Cow
Parsley?"

"If I were in Anglia," said Martin, "I would call it Queen's Lace."

"That's a pretty name," said Jessica.

"Pretty enough to sing about," said Martin; and looking carelessly at
the Well-House he thrummed his lute and sang--

The Queen netted lace
On the first April day,
The Queen wore her lace
In the first week of May,
The Queen soiled her lace
Ere May was out again,
So the Queen washed her lace
In the first June rain.
The Queen bleached her lace
On the first of July,
She spread it in the orchard
And left it there to dry,
But on the first of August
It wasn't in its place
Because my sweetheart picked it up
And hung it o'er her face.
She laughed at me, she blushed at me,
With such a pretty grace
That I kissed her in September
Through the Queen's own lace.

At the end of the song Gillian sat up in the grass, and looked with all
her heart over the duckpond.

Joscelyn: I find your songs singularly lacking in point, singer.

Martin: You surprise me, Mistress Joscelyn. The kiss was the point.

Joscelyn: It is like you to think so. It is just like you to think
a--a--a--

Martin: --kiss--

Joscelyn: Sufficient conclusion to any circumstances.

Martin: Isn't it?

Joscelyn: My goodness! You might as soon ask, is a peardrop sufficient
for a body's dinner.

Martin: It would suffice me. I love peardrops. But then I am a man.
Women doubtless need more substance, being in themselves more
insubstantial. Now as to your quarrel with my so