It was the voice of Enid, Earl Yniol's daughter as she sang the song of Fortune and her Wheel:
"Turn, Fortune, thy wheel with smile or frown,
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great."
"The song of that little bird describes the nest she lives in," cried Earl Yniol approaching. "Enter."
Geraint alighted from his charger and stepped within the large dusky cobwebbed hall, where an aged lady sat, with Enid moving about her, like a little flower in a wilted sheath of a faded silk gown.
"Enid, the good knight's horse is standing in the court," cried the earl. "Take him to the stall and give him some corn, then go to town and buy us some meat and wine."
GERAINT STEPPED WITHIN THE DUSKY COBWEBBED HALL.
Geraint wished that he might do this servant's work instead of this pretty young lady, but as he started to follow her the old gray earl stopped him.
"We're old and poor," he said, "but not so poor and old as to let our guests wait upon themselves."
So Enid fetched the wine and the meat and the cakes and the bread; and she served at the table while her mother, father and Geraint sat around. Geraint wished that he might stoop to kiss her tender little thumb as it held the platter when she laid it down.