The elves are fluting, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our Fairy King,
We sing, sing, sing.”
He sang the first four lines briskly and merrily, making the hare-bells chime in time with the music; but the last two he sang quite slowly and gently, and merely waved the flowers backwards and forwards. Then he left off to explain. “The Fairy-King is Oberon, and he lives across the lake—and sometimes he comes in a little boat—and we go and meet him—and then we sing this song, you know.”
“And then you go and dine with him?” I said, mischievously.
“Oo shouldn’t talk,” Bruno hastily said: “it interrupts the song so.”
I said I wouldn’t do it again.
“I never talk myself when I’m singing,” he went on very gravely: “so oo shouldn’t either.” Then he tuned the hare-bells once more, and sang:—
“Hear, oh, hear! From far and near
The music stealing, ting, ting, ting!