Martin: I suppose nothing. But did the story please you?
Joscelyn: As a story it was well enough to pass an hour. I would be willing to learn whether the King regained his kingdom or no.
Martin: I think he did, since you may go to this day to the little city on the banks of the Adur which is re-named after his Barn. But I doubt whether he lived there, or anywhere but in the Barn where he and his beloved began their life of work and prayer and mirth and loving-rule. And died as happily as they had lived.
Joan: I am glad they lived happily. I was afraid the tale would end unhappily.
Joyce: And so was I. For when the King roamed the hills for a whole week without success, I began to fear he would never find the Woman again.
Jennifer: I for my part feared lest he should not open his lips during the fourth vigil, and so must become a Dove for the remainder of his days.
Jane: It was but by the grace of a moment he did not drown himself in the Pond.
Jessica: Or what if, by some unlucky chance, he had never come to the forge at all?
Martin: In any of these events, I grant you, the tale must have ended in disaster. And this is the special wonder of love-tales: that though they may end unhappily in a thousand ways, and happily in only one, yet that one will vanquish the thousand as often as the desires of lovers run in tandem. But there is one accident you have left out of count, and it is the worst stumbling-block I know of in the path of happy endings.
All the Milkmaids: What is it?