“’And now if your Majesty would care to listen to the story of the Fisherman——’”
“That is enough,” says Miss Salome. “Are you tired?” The Child’s eyes answer her.
“Then sing to me.”
“What shall I sing?” says the Child. “’Lord Lovell’”?
“If you like,” answers Miss Salome.
The Child rises and stands before the great chair. Her face is raised and serious. She knows only ballads, but to her they are opera and symphony in one. She clasps her hands and begins:
Lord Lovell he stood at his castle gate,
A-combing his milk-white steed,
When out came Lady Nancy Bell,
To wish her lover good spee-ee-eed,