Presently the proprietor of the cage, who had been baiting his horse at the stables of the inn, returned and lowered curtains about the cage and the prisoner. Fearful lest they be summoned to pay the showman his penny, the onlookers took to their heels, and soon the youth found himself alone in the courtyard.
Now this prisoner, I must tell you, was known as the Man of the Wildwood, for some hunters had found him in a net which they had spread in the wildwood a year before. To some an animal-like man, to others a man-like animal, the Man of the Wildwood remained a mystery in the land. As for the prisoner, never a word said he, and none knew whether he would not or could not talk.
Securely locked in his cage, the Man of the Wildwood was shown to all at a penny a head.
And now, as the youth mused alone in the silence, the maid Miranda came forth to light the great lantern in the court. A white apron she wore, a great white cap, and there were red ribbons on her gown. The squire’s son thought he never beheld a maid so fair.
Catching sight of the squire’s son, standing idly by, Miranda said to him, “Pray, good sir, what may there be in yon cage?”
“The Man of the Wildwood,” replied the youth. And he told Miranda what he had overheard amid the throng.
“Alas, poor creature,” said the gentle maiden, “how bitter must be such a cage to one who has known the freedom of the wildwood! I surely must bring him some honey and bread!”
And away she sped to the larder of the inn to fetch the good cheer. The twilight deepened. When Miranda returned again, the youth and the maid walked to the green cage and offered the gift to the Man of the Wildwood.
For a little space the prisoner, crouched in a dark corner of the cage, made neither sign nor sound. Then slowly, very slowly, he approached the gift of the kind maiden and ate of it hungrily. And because he had met with so little pity and compassion, the Man of the Wildwood was moved to his heart’s deep, and gazed upon the young folk with strange eyes.
All evening long the squire’s son mused on the Man of the Wildwood. Suddenly a great pity possessed him, and going to the showman, he purchased the prisoner for fifty golden crowns.