"Yet the world must go round, Mistress Joyce. And swings were made to swing. Do you think, Mistress Jane, if you sat in the swing I should think twice, or even once, before giving it a push?" Jane considered this, and then said gravely, "I think, Master Pippin, you would have to think at least once before pushing the swing to-night; because it isn't there." "What a wise little milkmaid you are," said Martin, looking about for the skipping-ropes. "Yes," said Jessica, "Jane is wiser than any of us. She is extremely wise. I wonder you hadn't noticed it." "Oh, but I had," said Martin earnestly, fixing the swinging ropes to their places. "There, Mistress Jane, let me help you in, and I will give you a push." He offered her his hand respectfully, and Jane took it saying, "I don't like swinging very high." "I will think before I push," said Martin. And when she was settled, with her skirts in order and her little feet tucked back, he rocked the swing so gently that not an apple fell nor a milkmaid slipped, clambering to her place. And Martin leaned back in his and shut his eyes. "We are waiting," observed Joscelyn overhead. "So am I," sighed Martin. "For what?" "For a push." "But you're not swinging." "Neither's my story. And it will take seven pair of arms to set it going." And he fixed his eyes on Gillian in her sorrow, but she did not lift her face. "Here's six to start the motion of themselves," said Joscelyn, "and it only remains to you to attract the seventh willy-nilly." "It were easier," said Martin, "to unlock Saint Peter's Gates with cowslips." "I was not talking of impossibilities, Master Pippin," said Joscelyn. "Why, neither was I," said Martin; "for did you never hear that cowslips, among all the golden flowers of spring, are the Keys of Heaven?" And sending a little chime from his lute across the Well-House he sang-- She lost the keys of heaven Walking in a shadow, Sighing for her lad O She lost her keys of heaven. She saw the boys and girls who flocked Beyond the gates all barred and locked-- And oh! sighed she, the locks are seven Betwixt me and my lad O, And I have lost my keys of heaven Walking in a shadow. She found the keys of heaven All in a May meadow, Singing for her lad O She found her keys of heaven. She found them made of cowslip gold Springing seven-thousandfold-- And oh! sang she, ere fall of even Shall I not be wed O? For I have found my keys of heaven All in a May meadow. By the end of the song Gillian was kneeling upright among the mallows, and with her hands clasped under her chin was gazing across the duckpond. "Well, well!" exclaimed Joscelyn, "cowslips may, or may not, have the power to unlock the heavenly gates. But there's no denying that a very silly song has unlocked our Mistress's lethargy. So I advise you to seize the occasion to swing your tale on its way."