Farjeon, Eleanor, 1881-1965 / 2008-11-24 00:00:00
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 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.
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