'There will I change into your own true knight, Janet, and ye shall throw over me your mantle of green velvet.'
Dark was the night and full of gloom as the lady Janet hastened to the cross at Milestone, but her heart was glad and full of light. She would see her own true knight in mortal form before the dawn of Hallowday.
It was between the hours of twelve and one o'clock when Janet stood alone at the spot where the fairy train would pass.
Fearsome it was there alone in the gloom, but the lady Janet was heedful of nought. She had but to wait, to listen. Yet not a sound did she hear, save only the wind as it whistled through the long grass.
Not a sound save the wind did she hear? Ah yes, now strange noises were blown to her eager ears. The bells on fairy bridles tinkled, the music of the tiny fairy band piped each moment more clear.
Janet looked, and by the light of Will o' Wisp she could just catch sight of their little oaten pipes. Shrill were the notes they blew on these, but softer were the sounds they blew through tiny hemlock pipes. Then deeper came the tones of the bog-reeds and large hemlock, and Janet, looking, saw the little green folk draw nigh.
How merry the music was, how glad and good! Never was known a fairy yet who sang or played of aught but joy and mirth.
The first company of the little folk passed Janet as she stood patient, watchful by the cross; the second passed, and then there came the third.
'The black steed! Let it go,' said Janet to herself.
'The brown steed! It matters not to me, she whispered.