"Even so, lord!"
"Doth she wear ever a—a green veil, Giles?"
"Verily, lord, and with a most sweet grace—"
"And her shoes—"
"Her shoes, tall brother, O methinks her sweet shoe doth kiss the earth so sweet and light poor earth must needs love and languish as doth poor Giles! Her shoe—"
"Is it aught like to this, Giles?" and forthwith Beltane took out the little shoe.
"Aye, 'tis her very own, master!" groaned Giles. "Ah, woe is me, for if she hath given to thee rose and therewith her pretty shoe—thou hast, belike, her heart also, and with her heart—"
"Nay, take it, Giles,—take it!" quoth Beltane, sighing. "I did but find it in my going, and this rose—I found also, but this will I keep. Methinks thy love is what thy heart telleth thee—a maid very gentle and sweet—so God prosper thy wooing, Giles!"
So saying, Beltane thrust the shoe upon bewildered Giles and, turning swiftly about, hasted away. But even then, while the archer yet stared after him, Beltane turned and came striding back.
"Giles," quoth he, "how tall is the Reeve's daughter?"