appened was an
inhabitant of Wold Newton, who had been on a visit to the neighbouring
village of North Burton, and was belated. Another tale resembling the
Gloucestershire saga is found in Swabia, though the object of which the
mysterious benefactor was deprived was not a cup, but a knife. Some farm
servants, while at work in the fields, were approached by an unusually
beautiful maiden clad in black. Every day about nine or ten o'clock in
the morning, and again about four o'clock in the afternoon, she brought
them a small pitcher of wine and a loaf of snow-white bread--greater
luxuries, probably, to peasants then even than they would be now. She
always brought a very pretty silver knife to cut the bread, and always
begged them to be sure to give it back to her, else she were lost. Her
visits continued until one of the servants took it into his head to keep
the knife, which he was ungrateful enough to do in spite of her tears
and prayers. Finding all entreaties vain, she uttered piercing cries of
distress, tore her fair hair, rent her silken clothes, and vanished,
never to be seen again. But often you may hear on the spot where she
once appeared sobs and the sound of weeping.[113]

A Cornish tale relates that a farmer's boy of Portallow was one night
sent to a neighbouring village for some household necessaries. On the
way he fell in with some piskies, and by repeating the formula he heard
them use, transported himself with them, first to Portallow Green, then
to Seaton Beach, and finally to "the King of France's cellar," where he
joined his mysterious companions in tasting that monarch's wines. They
then passed through magnificent rooms, where the tables were laden for
a feast. By way of taking some memorial of his travels he pocketed one
of the rich silver goblets which stood on one of the tables. After a
very short stay the word was passed to return, and presently he found
himself again at home. The good wife complimented him on his despatch.
"You'd say so, if you only know'd where I've been," he replied; "I've
been wi' the piskies to Seaton Beach, and I've been to the King o'
France's house, and all in five minutes." The farmer stared and said the
boy was _mazed_. "I thought you'd say I was mazed, so I brort away this
mug to show vor et," he answered, producing the goblet. With such
undeniable evidence his story could not be any longer doubted. Stealing
from a natural enemy like the King of France was probably rather