nges of the
apple-trees, and meanwhile the farmstead lacks water and milk, there
being no entry to the well nor maids to milk the cows. Daily comes Old
Gillman to tell us how, from morning till night, he is forced to drink
cider and ale, and so the farm goes to rack and ruin, and all because
he has a lovesick daughter. What is your remedy? He would give you gold
and silver for it."

"I do not know if it can be bought," said the Gypsy, "I do not even
know if it exists. But when a maid broods too much on her own
love-tale, the like weapons only will vanquish her thoughts. Nothing
but a new love-tale will overcome her broodings, and where the case is
obstinate one only will not suffice. You say she has pined upon her
love six months. Let her be told six brand-new love-tales, tales which
no woman ever heard before, and I think she will be cured. These
counter-poisons will so work in her that little by little her own case
will be obliterated from her blood. But for my part I doubt whether
there be six untold love-tales left on earth, and if there be I know
not who keeps them buttoned under his jacket."

"Alas!" cried Joscelyn, "then we must stay here for ever until we die."

"It looks very like it," said the Gypsy, "and my wares are a penny
apiece."

So saying she collected her moneys and withdrew, and for all I know was
never seen again by man, woman, or child.

"My apple-gold maidens," said Martin Pippin, leaning on the gate in the
bright night, "may I come into your orchard?"

As he addressed them he gazed with delight at the enclosure. By the
light of the Queen Moon, now at her full in heaven, he saw that the
orchard grass was clipped, and patterned with small clover, but against
the hedges rose wild banks of meadow-sweet and yarrow and the jolly
ragwort, and briony with its heart-shaped leaf and berry as red as
heart's-blood made a bower above them all. And all the apple-trees were
decked with little golden moons hanging in clusters on the drooping
boughs, and glimmering in the recesses of the leaves. Under each tree a
ring of windfalls lay in the grass. But prettiest sight of all was the
ring of girls in yellow gowns and caps, that lay around the midmost
apple-tree like fallen fruit.

"Dear maidens," pleaded the Minstrel, "let me come in."

At the sound of his voice the six milkmaids rose up in the grass like
golden fountains. And fountains indeed they were, for their eyes were
running over with tears.

"