"When the castle bell rings for supper, we will be back at the Clarides. Forward!"
The miller tight,
With flour white,
Stood close under the mill,
And fair and free.
Cried, "To that tree
Tie up your donkey Bill."
"The lake, Bee, look: the lake, the lake, the lake."
"Yes, George, the lake!"
George cried hurrah! and threw his hat in the air. Bee was too well behaved to throw up her coif in the same fashion. But taking off her slipper which barely held, she threw it over her head to show her joy. There it was, the lake, at the bottom of the valley the slopes of which ran round the silvery waters, holding them as in a cup of foliage and flowers. There it was, calm and clear, and a shiver still ran over the ruffled grasses of its banks. But the two children could not discover any road in the thickets to take them to this lovely mere. As they searched, their legs were bitten by geese, who were followed by a little girl, dressed in a sheepskin, with a switch in her hand. George asked her what she was called.
"Gill."
"Well, Gill, how do you go to the lake?"
"I don't go."
"Why?"
"Because."