And he looked towards her and smiled.
"That's right," he said. "Then you're not going away just yet. It's better here than being shut up in a palace garden, with no one but a bat to talk to."
"It is," the Queen said simply.
So, through the autumn day, she led the horses up and down the furrows, whilst be drove the share deep into the ground.
And through the blue sky, up the wind and down the wind, came the crows and starlings to feed on the worms that the plough turned up. So, late in the afternoon, they had come as far as he meant to go.
"Further down the hill," he said, "the wheat would catch the north wind. So that's enough for to-day, Queen Eldrida."
"Don't call me Queen Eldrida, because, if I am a queen, I'm not your queen. Just call me Eldrida."
"One name's as good as another," he said, as he slipped on his coat. "Now let's go home, and I'll show you a little of the valley behind the house."
So the Queen stayed for a while with them, and did as they did. And the blind man led her up the hills, and on the hilltops called the sheep, and from all sides they came to his call.
And the Queen halved his work for him, and did those things which his want of sight prevented his doing.