"Wouldn't it be better," said the stout lady, "if we went to a quieter place?"
"Well, there's a field," said Doris, "at the end of the street. Of course, we might go along there."
"You're sure you're not frightened?" asked the sailor.
The five drummers still stared at the ground.
"Not very much," said Doris. "You aren't going to hurt me, are you?"
"God forbid!" said the elderly greengrocer.
So they went up the street to the field at the end, and there they all crouched under the hedge; and the sailor, whose name was Lancelot, did most of the talking, because he was the biggest.
"You see, we've all lost something," he said, "so we went to see an old man as lives in the middle of Brazil. He's the wisest old geezer as ever lived, and we all of us told him what we had lost. This here lady has lost her husband and has been trying to find him for years and years; and this here soldier has lost his character and can't find a general to give him a job; and this here greengrocer has lost his appetite and is getting thinner and thinner; and as for me, I've lost my temper and can't find a ship to sail in."
"That's very sad," said Doris. "And what have these drummers lost?"
"Their senses," said Lancelot. "Each of these here drummers has been and lost one of his senses. The first can't see, and the second can't hear, and the third can't smell, and the fourth can't taste, and the fifth can't feel."