that thou shalt fare to the land of men-folk.
Belike this may seem marvellous to thee; but so it
is; and belike I may tell thee more hereof when time
serveth. Now cometh the last word of my rede.
Maybe if thou come often to the wood, we shall whiles
happen on each other; but if thou have occasion for
me, and wouldst see me at once, come hither, and make
fire, and burn a hair of my head therein, and I will
be with thee: here is for thee a tress of mine
hair; now thou art clad, thou mayst take a knife from
thy pouch and shear it from off me.
Even so did Birdalone, and set the tress in her pouch;
and therewith they kissed and embraced each other,
and Birdalone went her ways home to the house, but
Habundia went back into the wood as she had come.
It went with Birdalone as Habundia had foretold, for
she came home to the house glad of semblance, flushed
and light-foot, so that she was lovely and graceful
beyond her wont. The dame looked on her doubtfully
and grimly a while, and then she said: What ails
thee, my servant, that thou lookest so masterful?
Nought ails me, lady, said Birdalone, save that I
am gay because of the summer season, and chiefly because
of thy kindness and thy gift, and that I have well-nigh
done my work thereon, and that soon now I shall feel
these dainty things beating about my ankles.
And she held up and spread abroad the skirt with
her two hands, and it was indeed goodly to look on.
The witch-wife snorted scornfully and scowled on her,
and said: Thine ankles forsooth! Bag-o’-bones!
thou wisp! forsooth, thou art in love with thy looks,
though thou knowest not what like a fair woman is.
Forsooth, I begin to think that thou wilt never grow
into a woman at all, but will abide a skinny elf thy
life long. Belike I did myself wrong to suffer
thee to waste these three or four months of thy thrall’s
work, since for nought but thrall’s work shalt
thou ever be meet.
Birdalone hung her head adown, and blushed, but smiled
a little, and swayed her body gently, as a willow-bough
is swayed when a light air arises in the morning.
But the witch stood so scowling on her, and with
so sour a look, that Birdalone, glancing at her, found
her heart sink so within her, that she scarce kept
countenance; yet she lost it not.
Then said the witch sharply: Wert thou in the
wood to-day? Yea, lady, said the maiden.
Then said the dame fiercely: And what sawest
thou? Quoth Birdalone, looking up with an innocent
face somewhat scared: Lady, I saw a bear, one
of the big ones, crossing a glade. And thou without
bow and arrow or wood-knife, I warrant me, said the
witch. Thou shalt be whipped, to keep thee in
mind that thy life is mine and not thine. Nay,
nay, I pray thee be not wroth! said the maid; he was
a long way down the glade, and would not have followed
me if he had seen me: there was no peril therein.
