“But how,” asked the King, “during my vigils shall I know when midnight is due?” “In the third quarter after eleven a bird sings. At the beginning of its song go forth from the Ring, and at the ending plunge your head into the Pond. For on these nights the bird sings ceaselessly for fifteen minutes, but stops at the very moment of midnight.” “And is this really all?” “This is all.” “How easy it is to become good,” said William cheerfully. “I will begin at once.” So impatient was he to become a Brother Dove--that he abandoned his idea of visiting the Huddle Stone and the Wapping Thorp (which would have taken him out of his course), and, without even waiting to break his fast, leaped on to Pepper’s back and turned her head southwest towards the hills. And in his eagerness he failed to remark how Pepper stumbled at every second step. Before he had gone a mile he came to the Guess Gate. Of the Guess Gate, as you may know, all men ask a question in passing through, and in the back-swing of the Gate it creaks an answer. So nothing more natural than that the King, having flung the Gate open, should cry aloud once more: “Gate, Gate! what should a King do in a Barn?” “Now at last,” thought he, “I shall be told whether to dance or to pray in it.” And he stood listening eagerly as the Gate hung an instant on its outward journey and then began to creak home. “He--should--rule--in--it--he--should--rule--in--it--he--should--” squeaked the Guess Gate, and then the latch clicked and it was silent. This disconcerted William. “Now I am worse off than ever,” he sighed. “Pray, Pepper, can this advice be bettered?” As usual when he questioned her, the nag pricked up her ears and whinnied so violently that he nearly fell off her back. Nevertheless, he kept Pepper’s head in a beeline for Chanctonbury, never noticing how very ill she was going, and presently crossed the great High Road beyond which lay the Bush Hovel. The Wise Woman was at home; from afar the King saw her sitting outside the Hovel mending her broom with a withe from the Bush. “Here if anywhere,” rejoiced William, “I shall learn the truth.” He dismounted and approached the old woman, cap in hand. “Wise Woman,” he said respectfully, “you know most things, but do you know this--whether a King should dance or pray or rule in his Barn?” “He should do all three, young man,” said the Wise Woman. “But--!” exclaimed William. “I’m busy,” snapped the Wise Woman. “You men will always be chattering, as though pots need never be stewed nor cobwebs swept.” So saying, she went into the Hovel and slammed the door. “Pepper,” said the poor King, “I am at my wits’ ends. Go where yours lead you.” At this Pepper whinnied in a perfect frenzy of delight, and the King had to clasp both arms round her neck to avoid tumbling off.