of tiny bridle-bells: the fairies were trooping
over the ground. First of all rode the Queen.

"Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fine;
At ilka tress of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine."

But Wild Robin's closed eyes saw nothing: his sleep-sealed ears heard
nothing. The Queen of the fairies dismounted, stole up to him, and laid
her soft fingers on his cheeks.

"Here is a little man after my ain heart," said she: "I like his knitted
brow, and the downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift him gently, set
him on a red-roan steed, and waft him away to Fairy-land."

Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown leaf borne by the wind; he
rode as softly as if the red-roan steed had been saddled with satin,
and shod with velvet. It even may be that the faint tinkling of the
bridle-bells lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when he awoke it was
morning in Fairy-land.

Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and stared about him. Where was he?
He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming, no doubt; but what meant
all these nimble little beings bustling hither and thither in hot haste?
What meant these pearl-bedecked caves, scarcely larger than swallow's
nests? these green canopies, overgrown with moss? He pinched himself,
and gazed again. Countless flowers nodded to him, and seemed, like
himself, on tip-toe with curiosity, he thought. He beckoned one of the
busy, dwarfish little brownies toward him.

"I ken I'm talking in my sleep," said the lad; "but can ye tell me what
dell is this, and how I chanced to be in it?"

The brownie might or might not have heard; but, at any rate, he deigned
no reply, and went on with his task, which was pounding seeds in a stone
mortar.

"Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff my
silly dreams?"

"Weel, my lad," quoth the Queen of the Fairies, giving him a smart tap
with her wand, "stir yersel', and be at work; for naebody idles in
Elf-land."

Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the little Queen. By daylight she
seemed somewhat sleepy and tired; and was withal so tiny, that he might
almost have taken her between his thumb and finger, and twirled her
above his head; yet she poised herself before him on a mullein-stalk and
looked every inch a queen. Robin found her gaze oppressive; for her eyes
were hard, and cold, and gray, as if they had been little orbs of
granite.

"Get ye to work, Wild