"Well, that would be something," said Martin cheerfully, "for fields
must not go fallow that are appointed to bear. Direct me to your
Gillian's Apple-Orchard."

"It is useless," Robin said. "For even if you could cross the
duckpond, and evade the ducks, and compass the green gate, my
sweetheart's father's milkmaids are not to be come over by any man;
and they watch the Well-House day and night."

"Yet direct me to the orchard," repeated Martin Pippin, and thrummed
his lute a little.

"Oh, sir," said Robin anxiously, "I must warn you that it is a long
and weary way, it may be as much as two mile by the road." And he
looked disconsolately at the Minstrel, as though in fear that he
would be discouraged from the adventure.

"It can but be attempted," answered Martin, "and now tell me only
whether I go north or south as the road runs."

"Gillman the farmer, her father," said Robin Rue, "has moreover a
very big stick--"

"Heaven help us!" cried Martin, and took to his heels.

"That ends it!" sighed the sorry lover.

"At least let us make a beginning!" quoth Martin Pippin.