Yes, where were the lads? They were running about the fields, blowing out the will-o’-the-wisps, who came so willingly for the torchlight procession.
“Why do you gad about out there?” said the Trold. “I have taken a mother for you, now you can come and take one of the aunts.”
But the lads said they would rather make a speech, and drink toasts; they had no wish to marry. Then they made their speeches, and drank toasts and tipped their glasses up to shew that they had emptied them. After that they pulled off their coats and went to sleep on the table, to show that they were quite at home. But the old Trold danced round and round the room with his young bride, and exchanged boots with her, which was grander than exchanging rings.
“There is the cock crowing!” said the old housekeeper. “Now we must shut the shutters, so that the sun may not burn us up.”
Then the hill closed up. But the lizards went on running up and down the clefts of the tree; and they said to each other, “Ah, how much I liked the old Trold.”
“I liked the boys better,” said the earthworm, “but then it couldn’t see, poor, miserable creature that it was.”
“That reminds me of another story,” said the French Fay, who had already told one story, but was evidently ready and willing to tell another.
“We don’t want to hear two stories that are like each other,” said King Oberon.