Ballad-
singer,
Churchbell-
ringer,
Chimneysweep,
Muffin-man,
Lamplighter,
King!
Ballad-
singer,
Churchbell-
ringer,
Chimneysweep"--

"There, Mistress Joyce," said Martin Pippin, "I should marry a Sweep
and sit in the tall chimneys and see stars by daylight."

"Oh, let me try!" cried Joyce.

And--"Let me!" cried five other voices at once.

So he chose each girl a blade, and she counted her fate on it, with
Martin to prompt her. And Jessica got the Chimney-sweep, and vowed she
saw Orion's belt round the sun, and Jennifer got the Lamplighter and
looked sorrowful, for she too wished to see stars in the morning; but
Martin consoled her by saying that she would make the dark to shine,
and set whispering lights in the fog, when men had none other to see
by. And Joyce got the Muffin-man, and Martin told her that wherever she
went men, women, and children would run to their snowy doorsteps, for
she would be as welcome as swallows in spring. And Jane got the
Bell-Ringer, and Martin said an angel must have blessed her birth,
since she was to live and die with the peals of heaven in her ears. And
Joscelyn got the Ballad-Singer.

"What about Ballad-Singers, Master Pippin?" asked Joscelyn.

"Nothing at all about Ballad-Singers," said Martin. "They're a poor
lot. I'm sorry for you."

And Joscelyn threw her stripped blade away saying, "It's only a silly
game."

But little Joan got the King. And she looked at Martin, and he smiled
at her, and had no need to say anything, because a king is a king. And
suddenly every girl must needs grow out of sorts with her fate, and
find other blades to count, until each one had achieved a king to her
satisfaction. All but Joscelyn, who said she didn't care.

"You are quite right," said Martin, "because none of this applies to
any of you. These are town-fortunes, and you are country-maids."

And he plucked a new blade, reciting,

Mower,
Reaper,
Poacher,
Keeper,
Cowman,
Thatcher,
Plowman,
Herd."

"How dull!" said Jessica. "These are men for every day."

"So is a husband," said Martin. "And to your town-girls, who no longer
see romance in a Chimneysweep, your Poacher's a Pirate and your
Shepherd a Poet. Could you not find it in your heart, Mistress Jessica,
to put up with a Thatcher?"

"That's enough of husbands," said Jessica.

"Then what of houses?" said Martin. "Where shall we live when we're
wed?--

'Under a thatch,