Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
Fairy.
Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skims milk, and sometime labours in the quern,
And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime makes the drink to bear no barn;
Misleads night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?