Now the maiden of the Strange People had been playing all this time with the White Children of the Foam that live in the salt sea. She looked up through the cold clear water and marked that her robe hung no longer on the pine-tree branch.
“Alas, alas!” she cried, “my robe, my feather robe!” Swifter than any arrow she sprang from the water, and sped, fleet of foot, along the wet sand. The White Children of the Foam followed at her flashing heels. Clad in the cloak of her long hair, she came up with the fisherman.
“Give me my feather robe,” she said, and held out her hand for it.
“Why?” said the fisherman.
“’Tis mine. I want it. I must have it.”
“Oho,” said the fisherman, “finding’s keeping,” and he didn’t give her the feather robe.
“I am a Fairy,” she said.
“Farewell, Fairy,” said the fisherman.
“Farewell, Moon Fairy,” said the fisherman, and he made to take his way along Mio Strand. At that she snatched at the feather robe, but the fisherman held fast. The feathers fluttered out and dropped upon the sand.