As for the maids, for a minute or more they made one cluster;
then, shyly or with laughter, they drifted apart like the petals of a
wind-blown rose, and silk doublet and hose gave chase. Five
minutes saw the goodly company of damsels errant and would-be
bridegrooms scattered far and near over the smiling meadow. For
the most part they went man and maid, but the fairer of the
feminine cohort had rings of clamorous suitors from whom to
choose. As for me, I walked alone; for if by chance I neared a
maid, she looked (womanlike) at my apparel first, and never
reached my face, but squarely turned her back. So disengaged, I
felt like a guest at a mask, and in some measure enjoyed the show,
though with an uneasy consciousness that I was pledged to
become, sooner or later, a part of the spectacle. I saw a
shepherdess fresh from Arcadia wave back a dozen importunate
gallants, then throw a knot of blue ribbon into their midst, laugh
with glee at the scramble that ensued, and finally march off with
the wearer of the favor. I saw a neighbor of mine, tall Jack Pride,
who lived twelve miles above me, blush and stammer, and bow
again and again to a milliner's apprentice of a girl, not five feet
high and all eyes, who dropped a curtsy at each bow. When I had
passed them fifty yards or more, and looked back, they were still
bobbing and bowing. And I heard a dialogue between Phyllis and
Corydon. Says Phyllis, "Any poultry?"

Corydon. "A matter of twalve hens and twa cocks."

Phyllis. "A cow?"

Corydon. "Twa."