“Thank you, my lad,” said the old woman. “Perhaps I’d better not go across. It would be hard for me to reach the highway again. But I should like a few of those tall mullein spikes. I’ve none in my bag so fine as those growing in the meadow.”
“I’ll gather some for you” said the king’s page.
He leaped across the ditch, and soon filled his hands with the tall mullein spikes.
The old woman was delighted. She tucked them into her bag and said, “They make such fine winter candles. Thank you, my lad.”
“Winter candles!” exclaimed the king’s page.
“Aye,” nodded the old woman. “Dip them in tallow, a thin coat will do—and you have candles fit for a king. Thank you kindly.”
“We are in sore need of candles where I live, but——” the page stopped.
“Use mullein spikes. They make candles fit for a king, I say,” and the old woman picked up her sack.
“But we have no tallow,” said the lad.
“I can spare you a lump of tallow, my boy. Come along with me to my cottage,” said the old woman.