Market day rolled around again and Yedda and I went as usual to buy the week's supplies, this time followed by the younglings on their raft. I wasn't surprised to discover the children were known to every Whill in the marketplace - by now their doings must be the talk of the community! - but I was amazed by the warmth with which our tiny terrors were greeted on every hand, even by poor Yully! For all they were the sweetest little darlings on the planet - despite their destructive tendencies - and always touchingly sorry for their misdeeds I'd have expected if not hostility at least a justifiable wariness from the Whills.

Our list of requirements hadn't changed, but these days we had to get a lot more of everything, I pressed the younglings into service as package carriers and boat loaders, keeping them safely under my eye and out of trouble.

My condition was now very obvious despite my shapeless reed-cloth dresses. A group of Whill matrons asked me to join them for a cup of tea and plied me with friendly questions about my health and the babies'.

"Frankly I'm getting a little worried about delivering without a medi-droid on hand." I confessed.

The ladies shook their heads, clucking sympathetically. "Natural process childbirth is," one reassured me, "only if things go wrong is help needed."

"Progressing normally, you are." another said. "Normal will be the birth. Nothing to worry about have you."

I hoped she was right but I couldn't help wondering how much Whills knew about Human pregnancies - and whether even a Jedi Master would be of much use in a difficult delivery. Then I glanced around and saw with a chill that the younglings had disappeared.

I ruthlessly suppressed an urge to jump up and run about the marketplace looking for them - it wouldn't do to make a fuss and alarm everybody - but I shot a pleading look at Yedda and a few minutes later she politely excused herself and sauntered off in search of our strays while I forced myself to go on chatting and drinking tea.

In do time the children reappeared, wearing their now familiar hangdog expressions. shepherded by Yedda and Yossu the Miller. "What have you done now?" I asked with the calmness of despair.

"We just built a dam -" Tam began.

"Like the ones we made for Yully." Uthr put in

"- across this little stream coming down off the mountain." Tam finished

"Just to pass the time until we go home." Keri explained.

"We didn't mean to do anything wrong." Aiolian pleaded.

"Of course not, you never do." I said resignedly and looked at Yossu: "What damages?"

"Water diverted into my flour stores," he answered, "seven bags ruined were."

"Make good your loss we will." said Yedda.

"Trouble yourselves not." the miller said cheerfully. "As many bags do I spoil myself in a market week."

"It was lucky Yossu decided to take such a forgiving view of the matter," I told my pack of sniffling children as we herded them back to boat and raft, "and that so little damage was done but -"

Vita interrupted my lecture with a despairing cry from the depths of her little heart. "We try and try to be good but everything we do is wrong. We must be the worst children in the whole galaxy and I wish we'd been killed in the Temple with the others!"

"Vita!" horrified I dropped to my knees, there in the mud of the mooring place, and hugged her. "Don't say that, darling, never even think it!" I opened up my arms to gather in the rest of the crew. "Why Master Yoda would have broken his heart and died if he didn't have you to teach - and I don't know what would have become of Obi-Wan and Raj and me without you all to cheer us up!"

"Really?" Tam asked brightening.

"Really!" I said firmly. "We all love you and want you, no matter what you do! And don't any of you ever forget that!"

"We won't, promise!" said Uthr as the others nodded emphatic agreement.

I kicked myself silently all the way to the landing field. How could I have been so insensitive? How could I not have realized the effect my constant carping would have on children traumatized as these had been? Still the younglings couldn't be allowed to run wild, the Whill community and my nerves would never survive it.

The little ones loved the old freighter, crawling all over it and investigating everything with poor Artoo bleeping anxiously after them. And I had a brilliant idea - at least it seemed brilliant at the time.

"Threepio," I said, "does Artoo need your help with the ship?"

Artoo overheard this and made one of his ruder sounds. "Well I like that!" Threepio said indignantly, then politely to me. "As a matter of fact, Miss, no he doesn't."

"Good," I said, "because I could use you at home. The children need watching and guidance and I think you'd be perfect for the job."

Threepio straightened proudly and his bright metal face practically glowed with pleasure. "I would be delighted, Miss Padme! I am very fond of children."

It took Threepio, Artoo, Yedda and me several minutes to track down all our little ones and gather them in the main hold. "This is my protocol droid, Cee Threepio," I told them. "I want you to take him with you wherever you go and do as he tells you."

"Okay." Tam said brightly. He and the others were obviously fascinated with my glittering golden droid and I congratulated myself on finding the perfect solution to our problems.

I should have known better.

Back home I found Obi-Wan sitting on our picnic lawn teasing his granddaughter by floating a brightly colored ball just out of her reach.

"Obi-Wan!" I said shocked. "What are you doing?"

"What have you done?" he countered, nodded towards Threepio, completely surrounded by pint sized Jedi.

So I told him about our children's latest feat finishing with; "Threepio will keep them out of trouble for us."

"Hmmm." said Obi-Wan dubiously.

Suddenly the ball hovering over Mei-Chan's head fell into her little hands. "Thank you!" I said.

Obi-Wan grinned. "I didn't do it, she did."

I gaped at him, then got enough breath back to gasp: "At her age?"

"Oh yes. That's why we took children so young."

There were no more disasters after Threepio took charge of the little ones, to my relief and I presume that of the Whill community. But his new duties were rather hard on my droid in ways I had never imagined.

"Good evening, Miss Padme." said a booming bass voice out of nowhere.

I started, turned, and found myself looking at Threepio. "We're home." he finished

"Threepio, what happened to your voice?" I gasped.

Somehow he managed to look pained. "Miss Keri adjusted my vocorder."

"We were singing," our little Rystall explained, "and we needed a really deep voice."

"I see." I said. "You can put Threepio's voice back the way it was, can't you?"

"Sure." she said cheerfully. "If you want me too."

"Please." I said. "Unless Threepio prefers it this way?" I looked questioningly at my droid.

"No, Miss, I do not!" he said with booming emphasis.

A few days later I noticed his right hand was missing. "Threepio, where is your hand?"

"Master Tam has it, Miss Padme. I had a slight accident."

"We were climbing on the mountain and a rock fell on Threepio." Tam explained, showing me the damaged hand. "But don't worry, I'll fix it." He did too, as good as new, to my droid's considerable relief - and mine too.

Then there was the day the children returned mired from head to foot, and Threepio from the chest down and missing a couple of plates.

"We got trapped in a reed field," Uthr explained. "Threepio tried to pull us out and got stuck in the bottom mud. We managed to get him loose but he lost a foot and shin plate."

"We looked and looked," said Vita, "but we couldn't find them."

"I'm afraid I need a thorough cleaning, Miss Padme," Threepio put in apologetically, "my joints are so clogged I can hardly move - and I fear some of my circuitry has been compromised."

So we took him straight to the freighter. Artoo bleeped and whistled 'I told you sos' while cleaning the mud out of poor Threepio's leg joints and circuitry and the children rummaged through the storage lockers and tool boxes and turned up a few pieces of droid plating including a foot and shin piece - but in silver rather than gold.

"Oh dear, oh dear." said Threepio, looking down at his now mismatched limbs.

"I think the contrast is very stylish." I said soothingly.

He brightened. "You really think so, Miss Padme."

"Oh, yes." I assured him. "Very elegant and unique."

"Elegant." he repeated happily. "Unique. Thank you, Miss."

"You're very welcome, Threepio."

Despite all the accidents Threepio's supervision of the children took a great load of worry off my mind and left me free to concentrate on my meditations - not that I was getting very far in that department.

"Focus you must have. Fo-cus." Yoda kept saying.

"I'm trying, Master." I would answer in frustration, and he'd shake his head sadly.

"It is because you only 'try' you fail. Do you must, not 'try'."

Which made no sense at all. And neither did the subject the ancient Master have given me to meditate on.

"Love!" I'd exclaimed. "Love is the last thing I need to think about now, Master Yoda." Love meant Anakin and he had failed me - or I had failed him, I didn't know which. In either case love was clearly not my best thing.

Yoda's ears floated downward as he gave me a stern look. "Love most important thing is! Think about it, do not, feel it you must!"

Maybe if I were a Jedi I'd understand that - but I wasn't and I didn't. Still I kept trying, sitting alone in my house with the windows draped, eyes and ears closed, trying to 'focus' on love without drifting into agonizing memories of Anakin.

Then, one day as I was thinking about mother-love; My mother, and poor Shmi and my own feelings for my babies, it happened. Suddenly I was flooded with a warm, sunlit emotion encompassing me, my twins, the younglings, my Jedi Masters and friends and beyond us everything living thing on Whillowan, and beyond it. A love that welled through me but was not part of me but rather I a part of it.

And through that shining emotion came a voice, sad and compassionate and very familiar. "Poor little handmaiden."

My eyes popped open in shock. "Qui-Gon?"