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Then she answered and saith, “Thou silly lad, how can I be a goddess and a lady both in one? Thou hast not even enough wit to make a good fool. So!” (for Mistress Marian had a sharp tongue at times).

But he was not so much as ruffled, and laughed even again, most heartily. And he said, “I do perceive that thou art not fashioned either as goddess or lady, therefore be my comrade, and we will fight together for the weal o’ yon fairy princess.” All at once she laughed too, and yielded him her hand, and said, “I like thee. What is thy name?”

He said, “My name is Ernle; and I like thee too; therefore, I pray thee, tell me thine.”

So she told him, and my little lady sidling up, the three fell presently a-chattering like linnets at sunrise, and from that hour on I had no trouble with them.

‘Twas pretty to mark them at their fantasies. They were aye out-o’-door save when ’twas rainy weather, and then methought the castle had scarce room enough for them. In all their games Mistress Marian was the little lord’s comrade, and wore a helmet o’ silvered wood, and carried a wooden sword silvered to match her head-gear, and the little lord was likewise apparelled. And he called her ever “Comrade,” and clapped her o’ th’ shoulder, as mankind will clap one the other when conversing.

But my little lady, they both agreed, was a fairy princess; and, Lord, Lord! ‘twould take me from now ’til Martlemas next to name the perilous ‘scapes that did befall her. They fished her out of moats, they bore her from blazing castles, they did drag her from the maws o’ dragons and other wild beasts I know not how to name. Thrice was the little Lord of Radnor in dire straits at the claws o’ goblin creatures. Three times did his comrade rescue him by thwacking upon the chair which did represent the dreadful beast, till I was in sore dread there would be no mending of it, and me, mayhap, dismissed from the castle for carelessness. And always when ’twas all o’er, and the little princess in safety, I was called upon to act parson and wed my little lady to the little lord, while Mistress Marian leaned on her sword to witness the doings.

One day, in their rovings through the park, they came by chance upon a door in the hill-side, but so o’ergrown with creeping vines that, had not the little lord stumbled upon it, ’twas very like it had been there to this day without discovery. Well, no sooner do they see the door than they must needs open it, spite o’ all my scolding, and peer within. ‘Twas but a darksome hole, after all–a kind o’ cave i’ th’ hill-side, which they did afterwards find out from thy grandfather was used in days gone by for concealing treasures in time of war. And indeed it seemed a safe place, for there were two rusty bolts as big as my arm, one o’ th’ inside and one o’ th’ outside, and the creeping things hid all. As thou mightst think, it grew to be their favorite coigne for playing their dragon and princess trickeries. I would sit with my stitchery on a fallen log in the sunshine, while they ran in and out o’ th’ grewsome hole. But in all their frolicking my little lady could ne’er abide the sight o’ their swords, and she pleaded ever for gentler games. One day (I shall ne’er forget, though I live to see doomsday) they did crown her a queen, and then my lord would have it that she dubbed him her knight. She pleaded that prettily against it methought the veriest boor in Christendom would a given in to her, but my little lord was stanch. So they made her a throne o’ flowers, and when she was seated thereon, Mistress Marian handed her the great wooden sword, and my lord, kneeling, bade her strike him on the shoulder with the flat side o’ th’ sword, saying, “Rise, Sir Ernle, my knight for evermore!”