“I don’t know,” says Prince Connal.
“No more do I,” says Shamus, “an’ how do you expect me to fetch it to you then?”
“Well,” says Prince Connal, says he, “this is all there is to be said about it -- if you haven’t a plaisham at my castle door at supper time the night, you’ll be a dead man.”
“O, O,” says Shamus, says he, and sat down on the ditch and began to cry, while Prince Connal went off home.
“Shamus, Shamus,” says a voice in his ears, “what are you cryin’ about now?”
Poor Shamus lifted his head and looked around, and there beside him stood the Wee Red Man.
“O!” says Shamus, says he, “don’t mind asking me,” he says, “for it’s no use in telling you what’s the matter with me now. You may build a castle for me,” says he, “and you may bring oceans and rivers to it, and trees and birds; but you couldn’t do anything to help me now.”
“How do you know that?” said the Wee Red Man.
“O, I know it well,” says Shamus, says he, “you couldn’t give me the thing that never was an’ never will be!”
“Well,” says the Wee Red Man, says he, “tell me what it is anyhow. If I can’t do you any good, sure I can’t do you any harm.”