In due course the change of light told them it was supper-time; and with great surprise they ate the last two loaves to the sweet accompaniment of the apples.
"I would never have supposed," said Joscelyn, as they gathered under the central tree at the close of the meal, "that a day could pass so quickly."
"Bait time with a diversion," said Martin, "and he will run like a donkey after a dangled carrot."
"It has nearly been the happiest day of my life," said Joyce with a sly glance at Martin.
"And why not quite?" said he.
"Because it lacked a story, singer," she said demurely.
"What can be rectified," said Martin, "must be; and the day is not yet departed, but still lingers like a listener on the threshold of night. So set the swing in motion, dear Mistress Joyce, and to its measure I will endeavor to swing my thoughts, which have till now been laggards."
With these words he set Joyce in the swing and himself upon the branch beside it as before. And the other milkmaids climbed into their perches, rustling the fruit down from the shaken boughs; and he made of Joyce's lap a basket for the harvest. And he and each of the maids chose an apple as though supper had not been.
"We are listening," said Joscelyn from above.
"Not all of you," said Martin. And he looked up at Joscelyn alert on her branch, and down at Gillian prone on the steps.