that’s the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves––
“We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men.
Wee folk, good folk
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather––
Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little beggar!”
“But I may step on the wee men, the good men,” again the rich chuckle.
“No, you won’t if you scuffle and then step high; they’ll slip between your feet.”