replied, "What, jealous Oberon, is it you? Fairies, skip hence; I
have forsworn his company." "Tarry, rash fairy," said Oberon; "am not
I thy lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little
changeling boy to be my page."

"Set your heart at rest," answered the queen; "your whole fairy
kingdom buys not the boy of me." She then left her lord in great
anger. "Well, go your way," said Oberon: "before the morning dawns I
will torment you for this injury."

Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favourite and privy counsellor.

Puck (or, as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a
shrewd and knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in
the neighbouring villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and
skimming the milk, sometimes plunging his light and airy form into
the butter-churn, and while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the
vessel, in vain the dairy-maid would labour to change her cream into
butter: nor had the village swains any better success; whenever Puck
chose to play his freaks in the brewing-copper, the ale was sure to be
spoiled. When a few good neighbours were met to drink some comfortable
ale together, Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of
a roasted crab, and when some old goody was going to drink, he would
bob against her lips, and spill the ale over her withered chin; and
presently after, when the same old dame was gravely seating herself
to tell her neighbours a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip
her three-legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor old
woman, and then the old gossips would hold their sides and laugh at
her, and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.