That will I, said the wood-wife. When thou goest home to the house,
be glad of countenance, and joyous that thy gown is nigh done; and
therewith be exceeding wary. For I deem it most like that she will
ask thee what thou hast seen in the wood, and then if thou falter, or
thy face change, then she will have an inkling of what hath befallen,
to wit, that thou hast seen someone; and then will she be minded to
question thy skin. But if thou keep countenance valiantly, then
presently will her doubt run off her, and she will cease grudging,
and will grow mild with thee and meddle not. This is the first rede,
and is for to-day; and now for the second, which is for days yet
unborn. Thou hast in thy mind to flee away from her; and even so
shalt thou do one day, though it may be by way of Weeping Cross; for
she is sly and wise and grim, though sooth it is that she hateth thee
not utterly. Now thou must note that nowise she hindereth thee from
faring in this wood, and that is because she wotteth, as I do, that
by this way there is no outgoing for thee. Wherefore look thou to it
that it is by the way of the water 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.