"The argument is as absolute," said Martin, "as that if we do not soon breakfast my appetite will become my grief. But those miserable ducks!" And he snatched the crust from Joscelyn's hand and flung it mightily into the pond; where the drake gobbled it whole and the ducks got nothing. And the girls cried "What a shame!" and burst out laughing, all but Joscelyn who said under her breath to Martin, "Give it back at once!" But he didn't seem to hear her, and raced the others gayly to the tree where they always picnicked; and they all fell to in such good spirits that Joscelyn looked from one to another very doubtfully, and suddenly felt left out in the cold. And she came slowly and sat down not quite in the circle, and kept her left foot under her all the time. As soon as breakfast was over Jennifer sighed, "I wish it were dinner-time." "What a greedy wish," said Martin. "And then," said she, "I wish it were supper-time." "Why?" said he. "Because it would be nearer to-morrow," said Jennifer pensively. "Do you want it to be to-morrow so much?" asked Martin. And five of the milkmaids cried, "oh, yes!" "That's better than wanting it to be yesterday," said Martin, "yet I'm always so pleased with to-day that I never want it to be either. And as for old time, I read him by a dial which makes it any hour I choose." "What dial's that?" asked Joyce. And Martin looked about for a Dandelion Clock, and having found one blew it all away with a single puff and cried, "One o'clock and dinner-time!" Then Jennifer got a second puff and blew on it so carefully that she was able to say, "Seven o'clock and supper-time!" And then all the girls hastened to get clocks of their own, and make their favorite time o'day. "When I can't make it come right," confided little Joan to Martin, "I pull them off and say six o'clock in the morning." "It's a very good way," agreed Martin, "and six o'clock in the morning is a very good hour, except for lazy lie-abeds. Isn't it?" "Nancy always looked for me at six of a summer morning," said little Joan. "Yes," said Martin, "milkmaids must always turn their cows in before the dew's dry. And carters their horses." "Sometimes they get so mixed in the lane," said Joan. "I am sure they do," said Martin. "How glad your cows will be to see you all again." "Are you certain we shall be out of the orchard to-morrow, Master Pippin?" asked Jane. "Heaven help us otherwise," said he, "for I've but one tale left in my quiver, and if it does not make an end of the job, here we must stay for the rest of our lives, puffing time away in gossamer." Then Jessica, blowing, cried, "Four o'clock! come in to tea!" And Joyce said, "Twelve o'clock! baste the goose in the oven." "Three o'clock! change your frock!" said Jane. "Eight o'clock! postman's knock!" said Jennifer. "Ten o'clock! to bed, to bed!" cried Jessica again. "Nine o'clock!--let me run down the lane for a moment first," begged little Joan.