of--"

"Of whom?" inquired Martin as she paused.

"It does not matter whom," said Joscelyn, "but I think the time is ripe
to confess to you that the silly damsel is in love."

"The world is so full of wonders," said Martin Pippin, "that one ceases
to be surprised at almost anything."

"Is love then," said little Joan, "so rare a thing in the world?"

"The rarest of all things," answered Martin, looking gravely into her
eyes. "It is as rare as flowers in Spring."

"I am glad of that," said Joan; while Joscelyn objected, "But nothing
is commoner."

"Do you think so?" said Martin. "Perhaps you are right. Yet Spring
after Spring the flowers quicken my heart as though I were perceiving
them for the first time in my life--yes, even the very commonest of
them."

"What do you call the commonest?" asked Jessica.

"Could any be commoner," said Martin, "than Robin-run-by-the-Wall? Yet
I think he has touched many a heart in his day."

And fixing his eyes on the weeper in the Well-House, Martin Pippin
tried his lute and sang this song.

Run by the wall, Robin,
Run by the wall!
You might hear a secret
A lady once let fall.
If you hear her secret
Tell it in my ear,
And I'll whisper you another
For her to overhear.

The weeper stirred very slightly.

"The song makes little sense," said Joscelyn, "and would make none at
all if you called this flower by its right name of Jack-in-the-Hedge."

"Let us do so," said Martin readily, "and then the nonsense will run
this way as easily as that."

Hide in the hedge, Jack,
Hide in the hedge!
You might catch a letter
Dropped over the edge.
If you catch her letter
Slip it in my hand,
And I'll write another
That she'll understand.

As he concluded, Gillian lifted up her head, and putting her hair from
her face gazed over the duckpond beyond the green wicket.

"The lady," said Joscelyn with some impatience, "who understand the
letter must outdo me in wits, for I find no understanding whatever in
your silly song. However, it seems to have brought our master's
daughter out of her lethargy, and the moment is favorable to your tale.
Therefore without further ado I beg you to begin."

"I will," said Martin, "and on my part entreat your forbearance while I
relate to you the story of The King's Barn."

THE KING'S BARN

There was once, dear maidens, a King in Sussex of whose kingdom and
possessions nothing remained but a single Barn and a