"Oh, do I?" cried Joan.
"We'll soon find out," said Martin, and put buttercups under all their chins, turn by turn. And they all liked butter exceedingly.
"Do YOU like butter, Master Pippin?" asked little Joan.
"Try me," said he.
And six buttercups were simultaneously presented to his chin, and it was discovered that he liked butter the best of them all.
Then every girl had to prove it on every other girl, and again on Martin one at a time, and he on them again. And in this delicious pastime the afternoon wore by, and evening fell, and they came golden-chinned to dinner.
Supper was scarcely ended—indeed, her mouth was still full—when Jessica, looking straight at Martin, said, "I'm dying to swing."
"I never saved a lady's life easier," said Martin; and in one moment she found herself where she wished to be, and in the next saw him close beside her on the apple-bough. The five other girls went to their own branches as naturally as hens to the roost. Joscelyn inspected them like a captain marshalling his men, and when each was armed with an apple she said:
"We are ready now, Master Pippin."
"I wish I were too," said he, "but my tale has taken a fit of the shivers on the threshold, like an unexpected guest who doubts his welcome."