nd leagues over the water,
Lady, lady
My fair lady,
O my rose-white lady!

THE LADIES

(They give him the ring from the finger of The Emperor's Daughter, and
sing--)

Now you may play us a Roundel, singer,
A sunset-dance for a rose-white lady,
For the blossom's now on the apple-bough,
And the stars are near and the lawn is shady,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!

As before, The Singer plays and The Ladies dance; and through the
broken circle The Singer comes behind The Emperor's Daughter, who
uncovers her face to sing--)

THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER

Mother, mother, my fair dead mother,
They've stolen the ring from your heart-sick daughter.

THE WANDERING SINGER

O mend your heart, you shall wear this other
When yours is a thousand leagues over the water,
Daughter, daughter,
My sweet daughter!
Love is at hand, my daughter!

The third part of the game is seldom played. If it is not bed-time, or
tea-time, or dinner-time, or school-time, by this time at all events
the players have grown weary of the game, which is tiresomely long; and
most likely they will decide to play something else, such as Bertha
Gentle Lady, or The Busy Lass, or Gypsy, Gypsy, Raggetty Loon!, or The
Crock of Gold, or Wayland, Shoe me my Mare!--which are all good games
in their way, though not, like The Spring-Green Lady, native to
Adversane. But I did once have the luck to hear and see The Lady played
in entirety--the children had been granted leave to play "just one more
game" before bed-time, and of course they chose the longest and played
it without missing a syllable.

(The Ladies, in yellow dresses, stand again in a ring about The
Emperor's Daughter, and are for the last time accosted by The Singer
with his lute.)

THE WANDERING SINGER

Lady, lady, my apple-gold lady,
May I come into your orchard, lady?
For the fruit is now on the apple-bough,
And the moon is up and the lawn is shady,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady,
O my apple-gold lady!

THE LADIES

You may not come into our orchard, singer,
In case you set free the Emperor's Daughter
Who pines apart to follow her heart
That's flown a thousand leagues over the water,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!

THE WANDERING SINGER

Lady, lady, my apple-gold lady,
But will you not hear a Serena, lady?
I'll play for you now