"Bread is a good thing," said Martin, twirling a buttercup as he swallowed his last crumb, "but I also like butter. Do not you, Mistress Joscelyn?"
"It depends on who makes it," said she. "There is butter and butter."
"I believe," said Martin, "that you do not like butter at all."
"I do not like other people's butter," said Joscelyn.
"Let us be sure," said Martin. And he twirled his buttercup under her chin. "Fie, Mistress Joscelyn!" he cried. "What a golden chin! I never saw any one so fond of butter in all my days."
"Is it very gold?" asked Joscelyn, and ran to the duckpond to look, but couldn't see because she was on the wrong side of the gate.
"Do I like butter?" cried Jessica.
"Do I?" cried Jennifer.
"Do I?" cried Joyce.
"Do I?" cried Jane.