At this request, made so gayly and so carelessly, the girls all looked at one another in consternation. Then Joscelyn drew herself up to full height, and pointing with her arm straight across the duckpond she cried:
"Minstrel, begone!"
And the six girls, turning their backs upon him, moved away into the shadows of the moon.
"Well-a-day!" sighed Martin Pippin, "how a fool may trip and never know it till his nose hits the earth. I will sing to you for nothing."
But the girls did not answer.
Then Martin touched his lute and sang as follows, so softly and sweetly that they, not regarding, hardly knew the sound of his song from the heavy-sweet scent of the ungathered apples over their heads.
Toss me your golden ball, laughing maid, lovely maid,
Lovely maid, laughing maid, toss me your ball!
I'll catch it and throw it, and hide it and show it,
And spin it to heaven and not let it fall.
Boy, run away with you! I will not play with you—
This is no ball!
We are too old to be playing at ball.
Toss me the golden sun, laughing maid, lovely maid,
Lovely maid, laughing maid, toss me the sun!
I'll wheel it, I'll whirl it, I'll twist it and twirl it
Till cocks crow at midnight and day breaks at one.
Boy, I'll not sport with you! Boy, to be short with you,
This is no sun!
We are too young to play tricks with the sun.
Toss me your golden toy, laughing maid, lovely maid,
Lovely maid, laughing maid, toss me your toy!
It's all one to me, girl, whatever it be, girl
So long as it's round that's enough for a boy.
Boy, come and catch it then!—there now! Don't snatch it then!
Here comes your toy!
Apples were made for a girl and a boy.
There was no sound or movement from the girls in the shadows.