“Why, where is the peat?” began the landlord.
“O master,” said the poor man, “the fairies live in Merlin’s Crag! I have seen the queen, and she warned me not to take the turf from the top. May I cut the peat from the other side of the moor?”
“What do you mean? I believe your senses are wandering, or you would not say such stupid things,” replied the master. “Go back immediately and cut all the peat from Merlin’s Crag. Even if the old wizard himself appears, you must do as I command.”
The poor laborer was obliged to obey, so he went back to the crag and cut the peat. His heart beat very fast, for every minute he expected the fairy to reappear and upbraid him, but strange to say, nothing of the kind happened.
Exactly one year from the day when the peat was cut from the top of Merlin’s Crag, the laborer started on his way home across the fields. The master had given him a present of a can of milk and some cheese for his wife and children; so he whistled a merry tune as he hurried along. In the distance he noticed the queerly-shaped outline of Merlin’s Crag against a pale amber sky and his thoughts wandered back to the day one year ago. How strange that he had never again seen the exquisite little fairy! What a funny threat she had made! As he drew near the crag he began to feel strangely tired. He seemed to drag his leaden feet, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
“I must rest a bit,” he thought. “How long the road seems this evening!” So he sat down in a shadow near the crag and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke, the soft silvery moonlight flooded the fields, and he heard distinctly the village bell striking the midnight hour. Then there floated to his ears the happiest ripple of laughter. He rubbed his eyes and aroused himself. He heard a sweet, small voice singing:
“Come, follow, follow me
Ye fairy elves that be,
Which circle on the green,