"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 grief."