“You must spring upon me suddenly, and I will fall to the ground. Then seize me quick, and whatever change befall me, for they will exercise all their magic on me, cling hold to me till they turn me into red-hot iron. Then cast me into this pool and I will be turned back into a mother-naked man. Cast then your green mantle over me, and I shall be yours, and be of the world again.”

So Burd Janet promised to do all for Tamlane, and next night at midnight she took her stand by Miles Cross and cast a compass round her with holy water.

Soon there came riding by the Elfin court, first over the mound went a troop on black steeds, and then another troop on brown. But in the third court, all on milk-white steeds, she saw the Queen of Elfland, and by her side a knight with a star in his crown, with right hand gloved and the left bare. Then she knew this was her own Tamlane, and springing forward she seized the bridle of the milk-white steed and pulled its rider down. And as soon as he had touched the ground she let go the bridle and seized him in her arms.

“He’s won, he’s won amongst us all,” shrieked out the eldritch crew, and all came around her and tried their spells on young Tamlane.

First they turned him in Janet’s arms like frozen ice, then into a huge flame of roaring fire. Then, again, the fire vanished and an adder was skipping through her arms, but still she held on; and then they turned him into a snake that reared up as if to bite her, and yet she held on. Then suddenly a dove was struggling in her arms, and almost flew away. Then they turned him into a swan, but all was in vain, till at last he was turned into a red-hot glaive, and this she cast into a well of water and then he turned back into a mother-naked man. She quickly cast her green mantle over him, and young Tamlane was Burd Janet’s for ever.

Then sang the Queen of Elfland as the court turned away and began to resume its march:

And then the Elfin court rode away, and Burd Janet and young Tamlane went their way homewards and were soon after married after young Tamlane had again been sained by the holy water and made Christian once more.

Once on a time and twice on a time, and all times together as ever I heard tell of, there was a tiny lassie who would weep all day to have the stars in the sky to play with; she wouldn’t have this, and she wouldn’t have that, but it was always the stars she would have. So one fine day off she went to find them. And she walked and she walked and she walked, till by-and-by she came to a mill-dam.

“Goode’en to ye,” says she, “I’m seeking the stars in the sky to play with. Have you seen any?”

“Oh, yes, my bonnie lassie,” said the mill-dam. “They shine in my own face o’ nights till I can’t sleep for them. Jump in and perhaps you’ll find one.”

So she jumped in, and swam about and swam about and swam about, but ne’er a one could she see. So she went on till she came to a brooklet.

“Goode’en to ye, Brooklet, Brooklet,” says she; “I’m seeking the stars in the sky to play with. Have you seen any?”

“Yes, indeed, my bonny lassie,” said the Brooklet. “They glint on my banks at night. Paddle about, and maybe you’ll find one.”

So she paddled and she paddled and she paddled, but ne’er a one did she find. So on she went till she came to the Good Folk.

“Goode’en to ye, Good Folk,” says she; “I’m looking for the stars in the sky to play with. Have ye seen e’er a one?”

“Why, yes, my bonny lassie,” said the Good Folk. “They shine on the grass here o’ night. Dance with us, and maybe you’ll find one.”

And she danced and she danced and she danced, but ne’er a one did she see. So down she sate; I suppose she wept.

“Oh dearie me, oh dearie me,” says she, “I’ve swam and I’ve paddled and I’ve danced, and if ye’ll not help me I shall never find the stars in the sky to play with.”

But the Good Folk whispered together, and one of them came up to her and took her by the hand and said, “If you won’t go home to your mother, go forward, go forward; mind you take the right road. Ask Four Feet to carry you to No Feet at all, and tell No Feet at all to carry you to the stairs without steps, and if you can climb that—”

“Oh, shall I be among the stars in the sky then?” cried the lassie.

“If you’ll not be, then you’ll be elsewhere,” said the Good Folk, and set to dancing again.

So on she went again with a light heart, and by-and-by she came to a saddled horse, tied to a tree.

“Goode’en to ye, Beast,” said she; “I’m seeking the stars in the sky to play with. Will you give me a lift, for all my bones are an-aching.”

“Nay,” said the horse, “I know nought of the stars in the sky, and I’m here to do the bidding of the Good Folk, and not my own will.”

“Well,” said she, “it’s from the Good Folk I come, and they bade me tell Four Feet to carry me to No Feet at all.”

“That’s another story,” said he; “jump up and ride with me.”

So they rode and they rode and they rode, till they got out of the forest and found themselves at the edge of the sea. And on the water in front of them was a wide glistening path running straight out towards a beautiful thing that rose out of the water and went up into the sky, and was all the colours in the world, blue and red and green, and wonderful to look at.

“Now get you down,” said the horse; “I’ve brought ye to the end of the land, and that’s as much as Four Feet can do. I must away home to my own folk.”

“But,” said the lassie, “where’s No Feet at all, and where’s the stair without steps?”

“I know not,” said the horse, “it’s none of my business neither. So goode’en to ye, my bonny lassie;” and off he went.

So the lassie stood still and looked at the water, till a strange kind of fish came swimming up to her feet.

“Goode’en to ye, big Fish,” says she, “I’m looking for the stars in the sky, and for the stairs that climb up to them. Will ye show me the way?”

“Nay,” said the Fish, “I can’t unless you bring me word from the Good Folk.”

“Yes, indeed,” said she. “They said Four Feet would bring me to No Feet at all, and No Feet at all would carry me to the stairs without steps.”

“Ah, well,” said the Fish; “that’s all right then. Get on my back and hold fast.”

And off he went—Kerplash!—into the water, along the silver path, towards the bright arch. And the nearer they came the brighter the sheen of it, till she had to shade her eyes from the light of it.

And as they came to the foot of it, she saw it was a broad bright road, sloping up and away into the sky, and at the far, far end of it she could see wee shining things dancing about.