And the Priory bell rang soft in the valley, ten clear strokes.
“Dinner!” exclaimed the child, “and my lady's rondel lacking of three rhymes!”
“Yon 's the pass,” said the dreamer, “between the two hills. 'T is a straight road.”
“Ay, and a long one, is 't? And the monks feed fast, and clean the platter.”
“Nay, 't is nearer than thou deem'st. Thy legs will carry thee to the gate ere the first dish is empty. The mist that is ever on Ma'vern Hills, even though the sun shine, maketh a near thing stand afar off. Haste thee! And hearken; to-night, an thou 'lt have a merry tale of a Green Knight and Sir Gawaine of Arthur's Court, see thou beseech Brother Owyn. Himself hath been a knight one while.”
The lad was twinkling down the pass, when he turned about, and “God keep thee, cuckoo!” quoth he.
“God keep thee, little lark!” said the dreamer.
II
The Hills
