ad, with long hair, and a comb in his hand. Such was the
noise and confusion, that the two little maids of honour came out on the
terrace to witness this strange revelling. Rochester seized them and
kissed them as they screamed with fright at his shaggy beard--the wand
was applied to them, and they too were transformed. The Duchess of
Portsmouth opened her chamber-window, and perceiving the wild revelling
resolved to indulge his Majesty with a good curtain-lecture; but he
heard her not.

"To the oak of Herne the hunter," cried the king; "away to the oak!"

"To the oak! to the oak!" shouted the whole bacchanalian crew; and away
they flew across the park, starting the quiescent deer with their
shouts, their laughter, and their revelry. Rochester took the naiad
under his arm, that she might not be left behind, and dancing, capering,
tumbling, and getting up again, led by the merry king, who now was a
beautiful fairy, they arrived there out of breath.

But before they had reached the oak, their noise had disturbed the
slumber of one happy pair who had nestled in each other's arms among the
fern.

It was Maya and Elda--who had met, and had been reconciled, proving that
with fairies, the quarrels of lovers are but the renewal of love; not
the case, although supposed to be so, with us mortals. Maya had missed
his wand, but he would not leave Elda to return for it--he intended to
have searched for it the next morning.

"What is all that noise, dearest?" cried Elda, waking up and resting on
her elbow, as she listened.

"What can it be, but the mad king at his pranks as usual?" replied Maya,
who had risen on his feet. "But what is here? I see--I see how it
is--they have found my wand and must have broken it; for it does not
otherwise do things by halves."

As Maya said this, the king with his companions arrived under the
oak-tree--Elda retired to a distance, while Maya soon regained the two
parts of his wand from the hands of the intoxicated parties, who had
possession of them.

"I shall have work to-night, and must repair this mischief," said Maya.
"Elda, dearest, hasten and bring me poppy-juice to seal up the eyes of
these mad people."

In a few minutes Elda had executed her commission; the whole company
were now seated in a circle, singing songs, hugging one another, all
merry but the two little maids of honour, who not having taken wine,
were horrified at the transformation--they sat together and cried as if
their