People, most brave and fierce, tugging at his beard.

"What have we here?" he roared in a big voice. "Then let him play,"
commanded he when the Queen of Elfland had spoken her word.

Shamus played his three songs, and the King of the Little People no
longer pulled at his beard but sat as one in a dream.

"Those are good songs," said he at last. "Give him a coat of the
even cloth, and he shall play to me when I desire."

Accordingly, Shamus was given a fine green coat and became a
minstrel at the court of the King of the Little People. So carefree
was the life, and the food and wine so good, that the memory of his
former life and of the beautiful Princess became as the memory of a
dim and half-forgotten sorrow, and Shamus thought no more of
returning to the world.

One day, however, when he was recalling all his old songs to please
the King, who, after the way of kings, was always hankering for
something new, his fingers found a song of his childhood, one that
carried him back to the days in his father's house. Then he also
remembered other things, including the Princess and his love for
her and the quest upon which he had started. His fingers fumbled
with the strings, he could find no voice to sing further, and great
tears rolled down his face and splashed on the ground.

"Stop it!" commanded the King of the Little People, drawing his
feet up under him for fear of the damp. "Why is it you weep such
wet tears?"

So Shamus told him the cause of his sorrow while the King plucked
at his beard and looked wise. When Shamus had finished, the King
said to him:

"If I should give you the goblet that you seek and back you should
go to the world, sorrowful would be your days and nightly would you
lament the lost and beautiful years you have spent with me."

"Nevertheless," said Shamus, "so it is, and I must live my life as
it is ordered."

"So be it," said the King. "I do not value the goblet a whit but I
must, of course, lay upon you three tasks which you must perform
before it is yours."

"What are they?" Shamus asked.

"First," said the King, "get me the magic dog that belongs to the
King of the Gnomes and the sound of whose silver bell drives away
all thought of sorrow."

"Good," said Shamus, and away he went to seek the King of the
Gnomes.

After