est of a bad
job and a solid man of your dad again?"

But the donkey braying in its paddock got as much answer as he.

"Well, it's lean days for all, maids," said Gillman, and doled out the
loaves from his basket, "and you must suffer even as I. Yet another day
may see us grow fat." And he turned his basket upside down on his head
and moved away.

"Excuse me, master," said Jane, "but is Nellie, my little Dexter Kerry,
doing nicely?"

"As nicely as she ever does with any man," said Gillman, "which is to
kick John twice a day, mornings and evenings. He say he's getting used
to it, and will miss it when you come back to manage her. But before
that happens I misdoubt we'll all be plunged in rack and ruin."

And he departed, making his usual parrot-cry.

"I'm getting fond of old Gillman," said Martin sitting up and picking
dead leaves out of his hair; "I like his hawker's cry of
Maids, maids, maids!' for all the world as though he had pretty
girls to sell, and I like the way he groans regrets over his empty
basket as he goes away. But if I had those wares for market I'd ask
such unfair prices for them that I'd never be out of stock."

"What's an unfair price for a pretty girl, Master Pippin?" asked
Jessica.

"It varies," said Martin. "Joan I'd not sell for less than an apple, or
Joyce for a gold-brown hair. I might accept a blade of grass for
Jennifer and be tempted by a button for Jane. You, Jessica, I rate as
high as a saucy answer."

"Simple fees all," laughed Joyce.

"Not so simple," said Martin, "for it must be the right apple and the
particular hair; only one of all the grass-blades in the world will do,
and it must be a certain button or none. Also there are answers and
answers."

"In that case," said Jessica, "I'm afraid you've got us all on your
hands for ever. But at what price would you sell Joscelyn?"

"At nothing less," said Martin, "than a yellow shoe-string."

Joscelyn stamped her left foot so furiously that her shoe came off. And
little Joan, anxious to restore peace, ran and picked it up for her and
said, "Why, Joscelyn, you've lost your lace! Where can it be?" But
Joscelyn only looked angrier still, and went without answering to set
Gillian's bread by the Well-House; where she found nothing whatever but
a little crust of yesterday's loaf. And surprised out of her vexation
she ran back again exclaiming, "Look, look! as surely as Gillian is
finding her appetite I think she is losing her grie