One thing must here be told: Whenas the said
dame stood forth clad amidst of the chamber the next
morning, the child ran up to her to greet her or what
not, but straightway when she saw her close, drew
aback, and stood gasping with affright; for verily
she deemed this was nowise she who had brought her
last night into the fair chamber, and given bread
and milk to her and put her to bed, but someone else.
For this one had not dark hair, and hooked nose, and
eyen hawk-bright; stark and tall was she indeed,
as that other one, and by seeming of the same-like
age; but there came to an end all her likeness to
last night’s housewife. This one had golden-red
hair flowing down from her head; eyes of hazel colour,
long and not well-opened, but narrow and sly.
High of cheekbones she was, long-chinned and thin-lipped;
her skin was fine and white, but without ruddiness;
flat-breasted she was, and narrow-hipped.
Now she laughed at the babe’s terror, and said,
but in her old voice at least: Thou foolish
little beast! I know what scares thee, to wit,
that thou deemest me changed: now I tell thee
that I am the one who brought thee here last night,
and fed thee; neither is my changing a matter of thine,
since at least I am the one who shall keep thee from
hunger and weather henceforward; that is enough for
thee to know as now. Now thou hast to eat and
sleep and play and cry out, that thou mayest the sooner
wax, and grow into the doing of my will.
Therewith she led her out into the sunshine, and tethered
her to an ash sapling which grew anigh the door, that
the child might be safe the while she went about her
work in acre and mead.
But as for that matter of changing of aspect, the
maiden came to know thereafter that the witch durst
not go into the wood in the same skin as that which
she wore at home, wherefore she had changed it for
the journey to Utterhay, and changed back again in
the night-tide before she arose.
This little one, who is henceforth called Birdalone,
though the witch called her but seldom so, nor indeed
by any name, dwelt there betwixt the water and the
wood, and saw none save the said witch-wife, who,
as aforesaid, fed her well, but scarce meddled with
her else for a long while; so she wandered well-nigh
as she had will, and much in the wood; for she had
no fear thereof, nor indeed of aught else save of
the dame. She learned of the ways and the wont
of all the creatures round about her, and the very
grass and flowers were friends to her, and she made
tales of them in her mind; and the wild things feared
her in no wise, and the fowl would come to her hand,
and play with her and love her. A lovely child
she was, rosy and strong, and as merry as the birds
on the bough; and had she trouble, for whiles she
came across some ugly mood of the witch-wife, she bore
it all as lightly as they.
