“As she spoke, the end of the white scarf floated out into the sunshine, and instantly glistened with fair colors. And at the same moment the Lady began to sing:
Down from the mountain-top
Flows the clear rill,
Dance, little Never-stop,
Doing His will;
Through the dark shadow-land,
Down from the hill,
To the bright meadow-land,
Doing His will,
Loving and serving and praising Him still.