The miller saw her coming nigh And could not well forbear to cry, Your donkey you must tether. My dainty maiden, Marian, Tether you here your donkey, Jan, Who brought us twain together.* * Le meunier qui la voit venir Ne peut s’empêcher de lui dire: Attachez là votre âne, Ma p’tite Mam’sell’ Marianne, Attachez là votre âne Martin Qui vous mène au moulin. “The lake, Honey-Bee! See the lake, the lake, the lake!” “Yes, George, the lake!” George shouted “hurrah” and flung his hat in the air. Honey-Bee was too proper to fling hers up also, so taking off the shoe that wouldn’t stay on she threw it joyfully over her head. There lay the lake in the depths of the valley and its curved and sloping banks made a framework of foliage and flowers about its silver waves. It lay there clear and tranquil, and one could see the swaying of the indistinct green of its banks. But the children could find no path through the underbrush that would lead to its beautiful waters. While they were searching for one their legs were nipped by some geese driven by a little girl dressed in a sheepskin and carrying a switch. George asked her name. “Gilberte.” “Well, then, Gilberte, how can one go to the lake?” “Folks doesn’t go.” “Why?” “Because...” “But supposing folks did?” “If folks did there’d be a path, and one would take that path.” George could think of no adequate reply to this guardian of the geese. “Let’s go,” he said, “farther on we shall be sure to find a way through the woods.” “And we will pick nuts and eat them,” said Honey-Bee, “for I am hungry. The next time we go to the lake we must bring a satchel full of good things to eat.” “That we will, little sister,” said George. “And I quite agree with Francoeur, our squire, who when he went to Rome, took a ham with him, in case he should hunger, and a flask lest he should be thirsty. But hurry, for it is growing late, though I don’t know the time.” “The shepherdesses know by looking at the sun,” said Honey-Bee; “but I am not a shepherdess. Yet it seems to me that when we left the sun was over our head, and now it is down there, far behind the town and castle of Clarides. I wonder if this happens every day and what it means?” While they looked at the sun a cloud of dust rose up from the high road, and they saw some cavaliers with glittering weapons ride past at full speed. The children hid in the underbrush in great terror. “They are thieves or probably ogres,” they thought. They were really guards sent by the Duchess of Clarides in search of the little truants. The two little adventurers found a footpath in the underbrush, not a lovers’ lane, for it was impossible to walk side by side holding hands as is the fashion of lovers. Nor could the print of human footsteps be seen, but only indentations left by innumerable tiny cloven feet. “Those are the feet of little devils,” said Honey-Bee. “Or deer,” suggested George.