And the third time the two came to the spring, behold, the water bubbled and flashed with the colours of the rainbow, and by the light of the moon they caught a glimpse of something bright reflected on its surface. They glanced round, and there a lovely, radiant being sat by, with a tiny phial in her hand.
"Hold here, little people!" she cried, "let me drop some cordial into the pitcher."
"Nay, nay!" screamed Mattie.
"Nay!" cried Wattie sternly, "the drink must be as pure as crystal."
"For your noble warrior," added the fairy rising; "but the beverage will taste the sweeter with the drops that I put into it." And so saying, she stretched forth her hand, and shook the contents of her tiny flask into the pitcher; and her gay laugh rang merrily and scornfully through the midnight air.
Wattie and Mattie, half-frightened, hastened homewards; and lo, when crossing the bridge, an old hag overtook them, and, as she hurried past, she uttered a spiteful laugh.
"There is something strange in the air to-night," said Mattie. "See that weird old woman, and hark, Wattie, how Oscar, the miller's dog, barks at the moon."
"Mattie," cried Wattie resolutely, "let us empty our pitcher into the mill-race, and go back once again, and draw afresh! 'Tis safer."
So the tiny couple, weary and worn out as they were, trudged all the way to the Fairy Well once more to "make sure" that the stranger knight should come to no harm through their fault.
And this time the water flowed clear and cold, but with no varied tints flashing through it. Only Wattie seemed to hear the stream rushing over the pebbles like a soft, lisping voice. "Hush! listen! what does it say?"