which shows us nothing save the rainbow of her dreams. It is time we
did as she does.


Like shooting-stars in August the milkmaids slid from their leafy
heaven and dropped to the grass. And here they pillowed their heads
on their soft arms and soon were breathing the breath of sleep. But
little Joan sat on in the swing.

Now all this while she had kept between her hands the promised
apple, turning and turning it like one in doubt; and presently
Martin looked aside at her with a smile, and held his open palm to
receive his reward. And first she glanced at him, and then at the
sleepers, and last she tossed the apple lightly in the air. But by
some mishap she tossed it too high, and it made an arc clean over
the tree and fell in a distant corner by the hedge. So she ran
quickly to recover it for him, and he ran likewise, and they stooped
and rose together, she with the apple in her hands, he with his
hands on hers. At which she blushed a little, but held fast to the
fruit.

"What!" said Martin Pippin, "am I never to have my apple?"

She answered softly, "Only when I am satisfied, as you promised."

"And are you not? What have I left undone?"

Joan: Please, Master Pippin. What did the young King look like?

Martin: Fool that I am to leave these vital things untold! I shall