And there he kept his Christmas With mirth and princely cheare, When, lo! a straunge and cunning boy Before him did appeare. A kirtle and a mantle This boy had him upon, With brooches, rings, and owches, Full daintily bedone. He had a sarke of silk About his middle meet; And thus, with seemely curtesy, He did King Arthur greet. "God speed thee, brave King Arthur, Thus feasting in thy bowre; And Guenever thy goodly queen, That fair and peerlesse flowre. "Ye gallant lords, and lordings, I wish you all take heed, Lest, what ye deem a blooming rose, Should prove a cankred weed." Then straitway from his bosome A little wand he drew; And with it eke a mantle Of wondrous shape and hew. "Now have you here, King Arthur, Have this here of mee, And give unto thy comely queen, All-shapen as you see. "No wife it shall become, That once hath been to blame." Then every knight in Arthur's court Slye glaunced at his dame. And first came Lady Guenever, The mantle she must trye. This dame, she was new-fangled, And of a roving eye. When she had tane the mantle, And all was with it cladde, From top to toe it shiver'd down, As tho' with sheers beshradde. One while it was too long, Another while too short, And wrinkled on her shoulders In most unseemly sort. Now green, now red it seemed, Then all of sable hue. "Beshrew me," quoth King Arthur, "I think thou beest not true." Down she threw the mantle, Ne longer would not stay; But, storming like a fury, To her chamber flung away. She curst the whoreson weaver, That had the mantle wrought: And doubly curst the froward impe, Who thither had it brought. "I had rather live in desarts Beneath the green-wood tree; Than here, base king, among thy groomes, The sport of them and thee." Sir Kay call'd forth his lady, And bade her to come near: "Yet, dame, if thou be guilty, I pray thee now forbear." This lady, pertly gigling, With forward step came on, And boldly to the little boy With fearless face is gone. When she had tane the mantle, With purpose for to wear; It shrunk up to her shoulder, And left her b--- side bare. Then every merry knight, That was in Arthur's court, Gib'd, and laught, and flouted, To see that pleasant sport. Downe she threw the mantle, No longer bold or gay, But with a face all pale and wan, To her chamber slunk away. Then forth came an old knight, A pattering o'er his creed; And proffer'd to the little boy Five nobles to his meed; "And all the time of Christmass Plumb-porridge shall be thine, If thou wilt let my lady fair Within the mantle shine." A saint his lady seemed, With step demure and slow, And gravely to the mantle With mincing pace doth goe.