Maid Marian, setting forth to find
The mill, with sacks of corn to grind,
Her donkey, Jan, bestrode.
My dainty maiden, Marian,
She mounted on her donkey, Jan,
And took the mill-ward road.*
* Marian’ s’en allant au moulin,
Pour y faire moudre son grain,
Ell monta sur son âne,
Ma p’tite mam’sell’ Marianne!
Ell’ monta sur son âne Martin
Pour aller au moulin.
But Honey-Bee stopped:
“I have lost my shoe, my satin shoe,” she cried. And so it was. The little shoe, whose silken laces had become loose in walking, lay in the road covered-with dust. Then as she looked back and saw the towers of the castle of Clarides fade into the distant twilight her heart sank and the tears came to her eyes.
“The wolves will eat us,” she cried, “and our mother will never see us again and she will die of grief.”
But George comforted her as he put on her shoe.
“When the castle bell rings for supper we shall have returned to Clarides. Come!”
The miller saw her coming nigh
And could not well forbear to cry,
Your donkey you must tether.
My dainty maiden, Marian,
Tether you here your donkey, Jan,
Who brought us twain together.*
* Le meunier qui la voit venir
Ne peut s’empêcher de lui dire:
Attachez là votre âne,
Ma p’tite Mam’sell’ Marianne,
Attachez là votre âne Martin
Qui vous mène au moulin.
“The lake, Honey-Bee! See the lake, the lake, the lake!”