Long ago, before you were born, young men often walked out the front door of their parent's home and went to "seek their fortune." Jon-Jacque of the Valley was just such a young man, and one early summer day he left his father's home and strode into the wider world to look for work, adventure and reward. For a week he walked and asked for work, but being always turned away was his only adventure, and sleeping in haystacks his only reward. Finally, in a village far from home, he found a man, a farmer and master of a flock of sheep. This farmer agreed to hire the lad as a shepherd. The master furnished Jon-Jacque no lunch, but did give him a tin whistle to call the sheep, and then he sent the lad into the summer hills to tend the flock.

Jon-Jacque worked all day beneath a blazing sun, leading and driving the sheep from meadow to hillside and from hillside to meadow, far out to wide pastures where the grass grew tall and sweet. He played his whistle and closely watched the sheep as they wandered and grazed.

Among the flock there was a lamb that caught Jon-Jacque's eye. It was smaller than the rest, and its fleece was specked with what looked like spots of gold. The flecks sometimes caught the sunlight and thus the lad's eye, and when the lamb heard Jon-Jacque's whistle, she not only was the first to follow the shepherd, she would dance behind him! Jon-Jacque was instantly fond of her. He decided to ask his new master if he might have the lamb for his own.

That evening he drove the sheep back to the master's farm. When the farmer saw that his sheep were well-fed, and that they had all returned, he was very pleased. He leaned against a fence post and smoked his pipe and asked all manner of questions about the flock that day. At last he asked Jon-Jacque to work all year for him.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Jon-Jacque.

"And now to speak of wages," said the master, puffing the pipe and looking thoughtfully across the flock.

"Well," said Jon-Jacque, "naturally I'll want a place to sleep and three meals a day."

"Oh, naturally, naturally," agreed the farmer. "Anything else?"

"At the end of the year, would you give me that lamb?" The new shepherd pointed to the lamb with the golden flecked fleece.

The farmer was shocked, but didn't show it. He never thought to have anyone hired so cheap. Why, the lad did even want two sheep to start his own flock! He gave the matter a moment's thought, mainly for show, and then agreed. "You shall have the lamb, my lad," he said, "after one year - provided all goes well." The two shook hands, and each thought himself well served by the deal.

The year passed, and indeed the lad worked so hard that the flock grew fat and strong. Never did a sheep wander away, never a one was attacked by wolves, never a one lost in foul weather. And along the way, the lad learned to be an excellent tin whistle player. At the end of the year, just at the start of another glorious summer, the master gave Jon-Jacque the lamb as promised. The farmer laughed to himself at the good deal he had made.

A year on his own and having learned to be both shepherd and musician, Jon-Jacque thought it time he visited his family. Whistling the lamb behind him, the pair set off for the lad's old home. As they journeyed that first day, the lad playing, the lamb skipping and dancing, the sun began to set and the evening air grow cool. Jon-Jacque knocked at the door of a farmhouse to ask if he might lodge there for the night, that being the way people did in those days. The farmer and his wife welcomed him to their table for supper, then gave his lamb a place in the barn and him a place in the hayloft.

Now this farmer had a daughter, as farmers often do, and when the farmer's daughter saw the young shepherd, she turned up her nose. But when she saw the lamb with golden flecked fleece - that was different! She decided she must have the creature for her own. At midnight that night, at the dark of the moon while everyone slept, she slipped downstairs, and tiptoed out of the farmhouse to the barn where the shepherd and sheep slept. Greedy for the fleece, the girl reached out, grabbed the lamb - and was stuck! Her hand was glued fast in the thick, gold-spotted fleece.

The morning sun found the girl still stuck to the lamb, desperately trying to pull her hand free. The lad jumped in to help but, but no matter how he tried, he could not separate them. Since Jon-Jacque would not for anything leave his lamb, and since he was on his way home, the farm girl was obliged to go, too.

Off they walked down the dusty road, and after the lad shook off the morning chill, he pulled out his flute and began to play. The moment the lamb heard the music, she began to dance, kicking and frisking along the dusty road - and the farm girl danced, too. She couldn't help herself. After all, she was stuck to the dancing lamb. But after a few uncomfortable moments of being jerked about by the cavorting lamb, she began to cut some steps of her own, keeping time with the lad's flute. Before they had gone many miles, each was dancing their own steps, dancing together and apart, the lamb with the golden flecked fleece and the farm girl with her hand stuck to the wool.

Entering the village near the girl's farm, the party passed a bakery. The baker had just put some fresh loaves into his oven, and so had time on his hands. He was a friend of the farmer's family and knew the farm girl well. When he looked out into the road and saw the lamb and girl dancing in the street, he called out, "Get home with you, girl! You're making a fool of yourself, dancing in the road like that! What would your mother say?"

Naturally, the girl went on dancing. "Why don't you listen to me?" the baker yelled, and he ran out to the road to pull the girl away. "I'll teach you to ignore me, young lady!" he cried, and grabbed her arm. When he did, his hand stuck to her. The lad continued playing and walking, while behind him danced the lamb and the girl and now the baker.

The little party walked and danced down the road, the baker being forced to dance, though he did not look as happy about it as the girl.

Near the edge of the village they came to a schoolyard where children played between classes. When the children saw the happy dancing lamb and the happy dancing girl and the grouchy dancing baker, they laughed and pointed and called to each other to come and look. Jon-Jacque winked and bowed to them as he went by, but he never slowed playing his flute and the lamb and the girl and the baker continued their dance.

The children, giggling and teasing, ran after the group, and soon, as everyone knew would happen, a little boy reached to touch the baker; his hand stuck. Another child reached to touch the lamb, and she stuck, too. Since a child will not learn others but must try things themselves, Jon-Jacque soon had a whole classroom of children stuck to his original small party. And all the children danced.

Next the shepherd lad and his dancing crew passed a churchyard. When the priest saw the sight from his window, he ran out to ask their story; this was not a thing seen around a churchyard everyday. But no matter what he said, no matter who he asked, the girl and the baker and the children and the lamb just danced, and Jon-Jacque just played. The good father reached his hand to the smallest child in the line, hoping to pull him loose - and, of course, found himself stuck to the child. Soon the priest was dancing, too. At first he didn't know what to think of it, but finally decided that he enjoyed it, and all good things are from God. And so with his rosary twirling about him as he stepped, he fell in and danced with the rest.

Leading the company of dancers, the Jon-Jacque skipped merrily on, ever tootling on his flute. Toward dusk he came to another village. There he stopped to ask lodging from an old woman. At first she wanted to turn the strange group away, but when she learned they were mainly children and they travelled with a priest and were willing to say in the barn, well, she welcomed them in.

When the lad and the woman sat to eat, the old woman told him the latest news. The king's daughter was very ill, she said, and no doctor could heal her. Finally the king, who liked to think himself very modern, had turned to an old medicine women, a wise women.

"It were me, myself," the old woman said, "that finally learned what ailed the girl. It were the melancholy humours in her blood. Only if the poor princess can laugh will she be cured. Laughter can clear such vapours."

Alas, no one had been able to make the princess so much as smile, the old wise woman explained. In desperation, the king that very day had proclaimed that whoever made the princess laugh could claim anything in the kingdom for his prize, even to demanding the hand of the princess in marriage and a dowry of half the kingdom. But, to keep away those who hoped to win being there when the girl laughed on her own, the king promised the dungeon for any who tried and failed. Jon-Jacque said nothing but silently fingered his flute.

At dawn the next day, the shepherd lad woke and went straight to the palace - well, as straight as possible with his dancing troupe behind him. At the palace he went in alone to make his plea to the king.

"Allow me, Your Majesty," he said, "to bring your daughter a laugh." The king made sure the lad understood the forfeit for failure, and then agreed. He called the princess to the audience hall.

Jon-Jacque began to play his flute. The king's face turned red, thinking this was all the lad had to show, and he was about to order the guards to arrest the lad when the lamb danced in through the door to the audience room. The creature caught everyone's eye, as did the sight of the wildly dancing farm girl and then the grouchy dancing baker and then the dancing schoolchildren, some laughing, some frowning, and finally the dancing priest, a smile on his lips, his beads swinging through his hand.

When the princess beheld this strange sight, the whole crew, will-they or nill-they, happy or no, dancing to the tin whistle, all led by the lamb of the golden flecked fleece - well, she fairly burst laughing. And this made the lad so happy he played his flute all the faster. And the laughter and the music made the lamb so happy that she gave one great and graceful spin and shook free the farmer's daughter, baker, children and priest. And now the girl and the baker and the children and the priest danced by themselves, for they felt such joy at finally being free. And the shepherd boy played on into the evening, the princess laughing and clapping in time, the court musicians falling in with him.

And so the king married his daughter to the poor shepherd, Jon-Jacque. He proclaimed the priest to be court chaplain, appointed the baker to the royal kitchen, made the farm girl a lady-in-waiting to his daughter, and feasted all the schoolchildren on sweets of every type. The wedding lasted from Sunday one week to Tuesday the next, everyone in the land was joyful - and there was much dancing in the streets of the kingdom.