thou art, so that thou wilt know the better how to frame thy word
concerning me. But tell me, hast thou ever seen thyself in a mirror?
What thing is that? said Birdalone. It is a polished round of steel
or some other white metal, said the wood-maiden, which giveth back in
all truth the image of whatso cometh before it. Said Birdalone and
reddened therewith: We have at home a broad latten dish, which it is
my work, amongst other things, to brighten and keep bright; yet may I
not make it so bright that I may see much of mine image therein; and
yet. What wouldst thou? said the wood-woman. Said Birdalone: I
shall tell thee presently when thy part of the play is done.

Laughed the new-comer, and said: It is well; now am I to be thy
mirror. Thus it is with thee: thou standest before me a tall and
slim maiden, somewhat thin, as befitteth thy seventeen summers; where
thy flesh is bare of wont, as thy throat and thine arms and thy legs
from the middle down, it is tanned a beauteous colour, but otherwhere
it is even as fair a white, wholesome and clean, and as if the golden
sunlight, which fulfilleth the promise of the earth, were playing
therein. Fairer and rounder shall be thine arms and thy shoulders
when thou hast seen five more summers, yet scarce more lovesome, so
strong and fine as now they are. Low are thy breasts, as is meet for
so young a maiden, yet is there no lack in them; nor ever shall they
be fairer than now they are. In goodly fashion sits thine head upon
thy shoulders, upheld by a long and most well-wrought neck, that the
sun hath tanned as aforesaid. The hair of thee is simple brown, yet
somewhat more golden than dark; and ah! now thou lettest it loose it
waveth softly past thy fair smooth forehead and on to thy shoulders,
and is not stayed by thy girdlestead, but hideth nought of thy knees,
and thy legs shapely thin, and thy strong and clean-wrought ankles
and feet, which are with thee as full of thine heart and thy soul and