She said: ‘If I be alive when the time comes this gift thou mayst well give me.’
‘Sweet kinswoman,’ said he, ‘tell me what it is that thou wouldest have of me.’ And he was ill-at-ease as he waited for her answer.
She said: ‘Ah, kinsman, kinsman! Woe on the day that maketh kinship accursed to me because thou desirest it!’
He held his peace and was exceeding sorry; and she said:
‘This is the gift that I ask of thee, that in the days to come when thou art wedded, thou wilt give me the second man-child whom thou begettest.’
He said: ‘This shalt thou have, and would that I might give thee much more. Would that we were little children together other again, as when we played here in other days.’
She said: ‘I would have a token of thee that thou shalt show to the God, and swear on it to give me the gift. For the times change.’
‘What token wilt thou have?’ said he.
She said: ‘When next thou farest to the Wood, thou shalt bring me back, it maybe a flower from the bank ye sit upon, or a splinter from the daïs of the hall wherein ye feast, or maybe a ring or some matter that the strangers are wont to wear. That shall be the token.’
She spoke slowly, hanging her head adown, but she lifted it presently and looked into his face and said: