“Here I am,” said a shrill voice at his elbow; and there stood the little man himself.
“I am very lonely, and no one will play with me, because my feet are not large enough,” said Fairyfoot.
“Come, then, and play with us,” said the little man. “We lead the merriest lives in the world, and care for nobody’s feet; but there are two things you must mind among us; first, do as you see the rest doing; and, secondly, never speak of anything you may hear or see.”
“I will do that, and anything more you like,” said Fairyfoot; and the little man, taking his hand, led him over the pasture into the forest, and along a mossy path among old trees wreathed with ivy, till they heard the sound of music, and came upon a meadow where the moon shone as bright as day, and all the flowers of the year—snowdrops, violets, primroses, and cowslips—bloomed together in the thick grass. There was a crowd of little men and women, some clad in russet colour, but far more in green, dancing round a little well as clear as crystal. And under great rose-trees which grew here and there in the meadow, companies were sitting round low tables covered with cups of milk and dishes of honey. All the little people about the well cried:
“Welcome, welcome!” and everyone said: “Come and dance with me!” So Fairyfoot was as happy as a prince, and drank milk and ate honey till the moon was low in the sky, and then the little man took him by the hand, and never stopped nor stayed till he was at his own bed of straw in the cottage corner.
Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all his dancing. Nobody in the cottage had missed him, and he went out with the sheep as usual; but every night all that summer, when the shepherds were safe in bed, the little man came and took him away to dance in the forest.
The wonder was that he was never tired nor sleepy, as people are apt to be who dance all night; but before the summer was ended Fairyfoot found out the reason. One night, when the moon was full, and the last of the ripe corn rustling in the fields, Robin Goodfellow came for him as usual, and away they went to the flowery green. The fun there was high, but never in all his life did Fairyfoot find such hard work as to keep pace with the company. Their feet seemed to move like lightning. Fairyfoot did his best, for he never gave in easily; but at length, his breath and strength being spent, the boy was glad to steal away and sit down behind a mossy oak, where his eyes closed for very weariness. When he awoke the dance was nearly over, but two little ladies clad in green talked close behind him.
“What a beautiful boy!” said one of them. “He is worthy to be a king’s son. Only see what handsome feet he has!”
“Yes,” said the other, with a laugh that sounded spiteful; “they are just like the feet Princess Maybloom had before she washed them in the Growing Well. Her father has sent far and wide throughout the whole country searching for a doctor to make them small again, but nothing in this world can do it except the water on the Fair Fountain. And only the nightingales and I know where it is.”
“One would not care to let the like be known,” said the first little lady. “But you will surely send word to the sweet princess—she was so kind to our birds and butterflies, and danced so like one of ourselves!”