e sweep over the grass, beat her magnificent wings, and
soared away.

It was all very extraordinary, and Jack felt shy and ashamed; but he
knew he must go home, so he opened the little gate that led into the
garden, and stole through the shrubbery, hoping that his footsteps
would not be heard.

Then he came out on the lawn, where the flower-beds were, and he
observed that the drawing-room window was open, so he came softly
towards it and peeped in.

His father and mother were sitting there. Jack was delighted to see
them, but he did not say a word, and he wondered whether they would be
surprised at his having stayed away so long. The bird had said that
they would not.

He drew a little nearer. His mother sat with her back to the open
window, but a candle was burning, and she was reading aloud. Jack
listened as she read, and knew that this was not in the least like
anything that he had seen in Fairyland, nor the reading like anything
that he had heard, and he began to forget the boy-king, and the
apple-woman, and even his little Mopsa, more and more.

At last his father noticed him. He did not look at all surprised, but
just beckoned to him with his finger to come in. So Jack did, and got
upon his father's knee, where he curled himself up comfortably, laid
his head on his father's waistcoat, and wondered what he would think
if he should be told about the fairies in somebody else's waistcoat
pocket. He thought, besides, what a great thing a man was; he had
never seen anything so large in Fairyland, nor so important; so, on
the whole, he was glad he had come back, and felt very comfortable.
Then his mother, turning over the leaf, lifted up her eyes and looked
at Jack, but not as if she was in the least surprised, or more glad to
see him than usual; but she smoothed the leaf with her hand, and began
again to read, and this time it was about the Shepherd Lady:--

I.

Who pipes upon the long green hill,
Where meadow grass is deep?
The white lamb bleats but followeth on--
Follow the clean white sheep.
The dear white lady in yon high tower,
She hearkeneth in her sleep.

All in long grass the piper stands,
Goodly and grave is he;
Outside the tower, at dawn of day,
The notes of his pipe ring free.
A thought from his heart doth reach to hers:
"Come down, O lady! to me."

She lifts her head, she dons her gown:
Ah! the lady is fair;
She ties the girdle on her waist,