"Keep this for me," said he, "until I ask for it; and if you are not then satisfied, neither will I be")
So impatient (resumed Martin) was the King to enter the Brotherhood, that he abandoned his idea of visiting the Huddle Stone and the Wapping Thorp (which would have taken him out of his course), and, without even waiting to break his fast, leaped on to Pepper's back and turned her head southwest towards the hills. And in his eagerness he failed to remark how Pepper stumbled at every second step. Before he had gone a mile he came to the Guess Gate.
Of the Guess Gate, as you may know, all men ask a question in passing through, and in the back-swing of the Gate it creaks an answer. So nothing more natural than that the King, having flung the Gate open, should cry aloud once more:
"Gate, Gate! What should a King do in a Barn?"
"Now at last," thought he, "I shall be told whether to dance or to pray in it." And he stood listening eagerly as the Gate hung an instant on its outward journey and then began to creak home.
"He—should—rule—in—it—he—should—rule—in—it—he—should—" squeaked the Guess Gate, and then latch clicked and it was silent.
This disconcerted William.
"Now I am worse off than ever," he sighed. "Pray, Pepper, can this advice be bettered?"
As usual when he questioned her, the nag pricked up her ears and whinnied so violently that he nearly fell off her back. Nevertheless, he kept Pepper's head in a beeline for Chanctonbury, never noticing how very ill she was going, and presently crossed the great High Road beyond which lay the Bush Hovel. The Wise Woman was at home; from afar the King saw her sitting outside the Hovel mending her broom with a withe from the Bush.
"Here if anywhere," rejoiced William, "I shall learn the truth."