CHAPTER VIII. OF BIRDALONE AND THE WITCH-WIFE



It went with Birdalone as Habundia had foretold, for she came home to
the house glad of semblance, flushed and light-foot, so that she was
lovely and graceful beyond her wont. The dame looked on her
doubtfully and grimly a while, and then she said: What ails thee, my
servant, that thou lookest so masterful? Nought ails me, lady, said
Birdalone, save that I am gay because of the summer season, and
chiefly because of thy kindness and thy gift, and that I have well-
nigh done my work thereon, and that soon now I shall feel these
dainty things beating about my ankles. And she held up and spread
abroad the skirt with her two hands, and it was indeed goodly to look
on.

The witch-wife snorted scornfully and scowled on her, and said:
Thine ankles forsooth! Bag-o'-bones! thou wisp! forsooth, thou art
in love with thy looks, though thou knowest not what like a fair
woman is. Forsooth, I begin to think that thou wilt never grow into
a woman at all, but will abide a skinny elf thy life long. Belike I
did myself wrong to suffer thee to waste these three or four months
of thy thrall's work, since for nought but thrall's work shalt thou
ever be meet.

Birdalone hung her head adown, and blushed, but smiled a little, and
swayed her body gently, as a willow-bough is swayed when a light air