"Don't they?" said Martin, much astonished. "I thought they did. What then is toadflax? Do the wildflowers not know?"
And still keeping his eyes fixed on Gillian he thrummed and sang—
Toad, toad, old toad,
What are you spinning?
Seven hanks of yellow flax
Into snow-white linen.
What will you do with it
Then, toad, pray?
Make shifts for seven brides
Against their wedding-day.
Suppose e'er a one of them
Refuses to be wed?
Then she shall not see the jewel
I wear in my head.
As he concluded, Gillian raised herself on her two elbows, and with her chin on her palms gazed steadily over the duckpond.
Joscelyn: Why seven?
Martin: Is it not as good a number as another?
Jennifer: What is the jewel like in the toad's head, Master Pippin?
Martin: How can I say, Mistress Jennifer? There's but one way of knowing, according to the song, and like a fool I refused it.
Jennifer: I wish I knew.
Martin: The way lies open to all.