“Haven’t you heard that Ur, son of the king, is to marry to-night the woman that he took from the Green Knight of Terrible Valley?”
“I have not,” said Lawn Dyarrig; “but as all are going to the wedding, I suppose I may go without offence.”
“Oh, you may,” said the weaver. “There will be a hundred thousand welcomes before you.”
“Are there any linen sheets within?”
“There are,” said the weaver.
“It is well to have bags ready for yourself and two sons.”
The weaver made bags for the three very quickly. They went to the wedding. Lawn Dyarrig put what dinner was on the first table into the weaver’s bag, and sent the old man home with it. The food of the second table he put in the eldest son’s bag, filled the second son’s bag from the third table, and sent the two home.
The complaint went to Ur that an impudent stranger was taking all the food.
“It is not right to turn any man away,” said the bridegroom; “but if that stranger does not mind he will be thrown out of the castle.”
“Let me look at the face of the disturber,” said the bride.