Bladud required no second entreaty, but hastily divesting himself of his princely garments, assisted the boy in extricating the sheep from the water.  The grateful youth bestowed upon him, in return, a share of his coarse supper of oaten cakes.  Bladud, who had not broken his fast since the morning, ate this with greater relish than he had often felt for the dainties of which he had been accustomed to partake at his father’s board.

It was a fine and lovely evening; the birds were singing their evening song; and a delicious fragrance was diffused from the purple heath and the blooming wild flowers.  The sheep gathered round their youthful keeper; and he took up a rustic pipe, made from the reeds that overhung the margin of a neighboring rivulet, and played a merry tune, quite forgetful of his past trouble.

Bladud saw that a peasant boy, while engaged in the performance of his duties, might be as happy as a prince.  Contentment and industry sweeten every lot, while useless repining only tends to aggravate the hardships to which it is the will of God that the human family should be exposed.

“You appear very happy,” said Bladud to his new friend.

“How should I be otherwise?” replied the shepherd-boy:  “I have wherewithal to eat and to drink; I have strength to labor, and health to enjoy my food.  I sleep soundly on my bed of rushes after the toils of the day; and my master never punishes me except for carelessness or disobedience.”

“I wish I were a shepherd-boy, also,” said the prince:  “can you tell me of some kind master, who would employ me to feed his flocks on these downs?”

The shepherd-boy shook his head, and replied, “You are a stranger lad from some distant town; most probably, by your fine painted dress, the runaway son of some great person, and unacquainted with any sort of useful occupation.  Let me hear what you can do to get an honest living.”

Bladud blushed deeply.  He had been accustomed to spend his time in idle sports with the sons of the chieftains, and had not acquired the knowledge of anything likely to be of service in his present situation.  He was silent for some minutes, but at length replied, “I can brighten arrows, string bows, and shoot at a mark.”

Math, the shepherd-boy, advised his new companion, in his rustic language, not to mention these accomplishments to the peaceful herdsmen of Caynsham, (as the spot where this conference took place is now called,) lest it should create a prejudice against him; “neither,” continued he, “would I counsel you to sue for service in a suit of this fashion.”  He laid his sunburnt hand, as he spoke, on Bladud’s painted vest, lined with the fur of squirrels, which was only worn by persons of royal rank.

“Will you, for charity’s sake, then, exchange your sheep-skin coat for my costly garments?” asked Bladud.

“Had you not so kindly helped me to pull my sheep out of the ditch, I would have said to you nay,” replied Math; “but as one good turn deserves another, I will even give you my true shepherd’s suit for your finery.”  So saying, he exchanged suits with the young prince.