nd, he sang it, too:

"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."

On the sailor's ship there was a minstrel bound for the king's court
to sing on May Day; and the minstrel learned the song from the sailor.

He was a young minstrel and very proud to sing at the king's festival,
so when it was his turn and he stood before the throne he could think
of no better song to sing than:

"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."

Now the king had been so busy about the affairs of his kingdom
deciding this question and that, sending messengers here and there,
and listening to one and another, as all kings must do, that he had
forgotten the song which he had made. But when he heard the minstrel
it all came back to him; and then he was puzzled.

"Good minstrel," said he, "ten golden guineas I will give you for your
song, and to the ten will add ten more if you will tell me where you
learned it."

"An easy matter that," said the minstrel. "The sailor who rides in yon
white ship in your harbor taught it to me."

"The soldier who even now stands guard at your majesty's gate gave me
the song," said the sailor when he was asked.

"I had it from the chapman who travels on the king's highway," said
the soldier.

"I heard the little goose-girl sing it," said the chapman when they
found him.

"'Tis Robin Ploughboy's song," laughed the goose-girl. "Go ask him
about it."

"The king sang it first and I next," said the ploughboy.

Then the king knew that he had made a good song that everybody with a
happy heart might sing; and because he was glad of this, he stood at
his window and sang again:

[Illustration: Music]

THE SONG THAT TRAVELED

Words, MAUD LINDSAY

Music, ELSIE A. MERRIMAN

_Allegretto_

The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright, And blue the cloud-less

sky; . And not a bird that sings in spring Is

hap-pi-er than I, than I, Is hap-pi-er than I. . .

THE QUEST FOR THE NIGHTINGALE[6]

Oh, who would go to fairyland?
The moon is shining bright, oh,
And who would go to fairyland
Upon a summer's night, oh!

Across a field of fragrant fern
All sparkling with the dew, oh!
Come trip it light to fairyland
A