In the Forest of Arden

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet birds throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither Rosalind had just laid a spray of apple blossoms on the study table, Well, I said, when shall we To-morrow. Rosalind has a habit of swift decision when she has settled a question in her own mind, and I was not sur- prised when she replied with a single decisive word. But she also has a habit of making thorough preparation in any train, not a movement made toward any winding up of household affairs. I had great faith in her ability to execute her plans with celerity, but I doubted whether she could be ready to turn the key in the door, bid farewell to the milkman and the butcher, and start the very next day