“A fig for a button!” I said, and held out one of the figs in my hand.
“A button for a fig! A bargain!” cried the first ballad singer, and taking the fig from me placed the button in my hand.
The idlers laughed at this nonsense, and we turned to go.
“Farewell, farewell!” cried the first ballad singer. “What do we say to the breaker of hearts who forgets her promise to marry?” The other two laughed, and began to sing.
We moved on down the road, followed by the tailors marching by fours, and as we departed we heard behind us the voices of the blind ballad singers for the last time, shouting out a song in this wise:
“She said that she wanted to marry all three,
Fiddle-de-dee! Fiddle-de-dee!
And it broke her heart that it could not be,
But ‘Oh!’ said she, ‘you must all agree
On one who shall be the fortunate he,