Out here, out here, shall be mirth and jest,
No sigh on the lips and no care in the breast,
When the fiddle is tuned at the dancers’ ’hest,
’Neath the birches.
Bengt.
That is well, that is well! So I fain would see it! I am merry, and my wife likewise; and therefore I pray ye all to be merry along with us.
One of the Guests.
Aye, now let us have a stave-match.[[25]]
Many.
[Shout.] Yes, yes, a stave-match!