sky again.

"There are things I know and things I don't know," said the Little Red
Hen, "but I know we are near the place we started from."

"Which way do we go to come to that place, my Little Red Hen?" said
Morag. "The way of the sun," said the Little Red Hen. So Morag and Flann
went the way of the sun and the Little Red Hen hopped beside them. Morag
had in a weasel-skin purse around her neck the two rowan berries that
Flann had given her.

They went towards the house of the Spae-Woman. And as they went Morag
told Flann of the life she had there when she and her foster-sisters
were growing up, and Flann told Morag of the things he did when he was
in the house of the Spae-Woman after she and her foster-sisters had left
it.

They climbed the heather-covered knowe on which was the Spae-Woman's
house and the Little Red Hen went flitting and fluttering towards the
gate. The Spae-Woman's old goat was standing in the yard, and its horns
went down and its beard touched its knees and it looked at the Little
Red Hen. Then the Little Red Hen flew up on its back. "We're here again,
here again," said the Little Red Hen.

And then the Spae-Woman came to the door and saw who the comers were.
She covered them with kisses and watered them with tears, and dried them
with cloths silken and with the hair of her head.

VIII

Flann told the Spae-Woman all his adventures. And when he had told her
all he said--"What Queen is my mother, O my fosterer?" "Your mother,"
said the Spae-Woman, "is Caintigern, the Queen of the King of Ireland."

"And is my mother then not Sheen whose story has been told me?" "Her
name was changed to Caintigern when her husband who was called the
Hunter-King made himself King over Ireland and began to rule as King
Connal."

"Then who is my comrade who is called the King of Ireland's Son?"

"He too is King Connal's son, born of a queen who died at his birth and
who was wife to King Connal before he went on his wanderings and met
Sheen your mother."

And as the Spae-Woman said this someone came and stood at the doorway. A
girl she was and wherever the sun was it shone on her, and wherever the
breeze was it rippled over her. White as the snow upon a lake frozen
over was the girl, and as beautiful as flowers and as alive as birds
were her eyes, while her cheeks had the red of fox-gloves and her hair
was the blending of five bright soft colors. She looked at Flann happily
and her eyes had the kind