So, I think I'll update, since this story is more popular than I thought it'd be. Thank you so much for reading this. I'll try not to jump around with my writing style, but how I've set up the story is a style I'm not used to writing with.
The dawn light cracked up over the edge of the world and brought forth its shining glory. The trees and flowers and grasses all whispered themselves awake, and the animal populace began to skitter about. The town hidden by acres of farmland stretched itself and began its laborious task of bustling about.
And somewhere down on its streets, a young girl woke up. Actually, many young women woke up. Most were from the merchant class, being shaken awake by their mothers, but a few were high-class damsels awakening from their slumber later at the call of their bodies. But none of them were the girl who is of importance to this story.
An ass's hooves began their clatter down the earthen path as weary travelers pulled into town. The butcher and baker began to limber up for their long days. Womenfolk were already out getting any little bits they needed to burn for a meal. And Touchstone was brushing the dirt out of her hair and clothes, grumbling about the dirty hole she lived in.
Oh, it wasn't really a HOLE, but it only managed to cover the child's head at night. The little thatched lean-to was built against an old crumbling wall, providing very little coverage to Mother's way. Quickly, the entertainer changed her outfits from one to another. Running into farther in, the joker hoped for a good day.
"Good morning, Touchstone!" The baker called out to her. He was a plump, round-faced man who was balding. What was left of his hair was a deep, dark brown.
"Hello!" She called out cheerfully. The rich smell of baking goods was beginning to thicken the air.
"Bonjour!" The butcher cried to her, his meaty fingers trudging their way through a wave.
"Bonjour!" The young girl replied to him, watching the muscle-man throw down meats and begin to pound them.
Lining along the streets were all sorts of different passengers. There was nice Miss Molly, with the prettiest face you'd ever see, who was a fish monger; Mrs. Tolken who was usually running errands, her graying hair up in a knot; Jules, with a strong Greek face and voice, he wanted to be a philosopher, but came to her town for some odd reason; there were the younger children, Mary, Zachary, and James; and there was that strange man named Mr. Johnson with fancy clothes; High-Father Norman and his pardoner (they sure did like each-other); and a tax collector. She hid from him.
There were also many travelers, but they just came and went so fast. Most of the time they were nice, but sometimes they called Touchstone strange names. She could see some now, tired from the journey and weary from the sitting. They were an older couple and they smelled funny. The child rushed up to them, as soon as they stopped talking to an inn man (whom she forbid herself from talking to) and shed a big smile on them.
"Welcome to our town!" Touchstone greeted them happily.
"Why thank you," The old man said, his face looking like it was compressing in on itself. The fool was about to begin to entertain them when the innkeeper came out.
"Shoo!" He flapped his hand at her, causing her to flee, waving at the old couple. They seemed nice. And the town smiled.