“It was Grannie told us about them,” said Eileen, “and sure it’s the sorrowfullest story in Ireland.”
“Then let’s not be playing it,” said Dennis.
“But there’s Kings in it, and lots of fighting!”
“Well, then, it might not be so bad, at all. Tell the rest of it,” Dennis answered.
“Well, then,” Eileen began, “there once was a high King of Emain, and his name was Conchubar (pronounced Connor). And one time when he was hunting out in the fields, he heard a small little cry, crying. And he followed the sound of it, and what should he find, but a little baby girl, lying alone in the field!”
“Well, listen to that now,” said Dennis.
“He did so,” Eileen went on; “and he loved the child and took her to his castle, and had her brought up fine and careful, intending for to marry her when she should be grown up. And he hid her away, with only an old woman to take care of her, in a beautiful house far in the mountain, for he was afraid she’d be stolen away from him.
“And she had silver dishes and golden cups, and everything fine and elegant, and she the most beautiful creature you ever laid your two eyes on.”
“Sure, I don’t see much fighting in the tale, at all,” said Dennis.
“Whist now, and I’ll come to it,” Eileen answered.