O if you play us an Alba, singer, How can that harm the Emperor's Daughter? No word would she say though we danced all day, With her thoughts a thousand leagues over the water, Singer, singer, Wandering singer, O my honey-sweet singer! THE WANDERING SINGER But if I play you an Alba, lady, Get me a boon from the Emperor's Daughter-- The flower from her hair for my heart to wear Though hers be a thousand leagues over the water, Lady, lady, My fair lady, O my spring-green lady! THE LADIES (They give him the flower from the hair of the Emperor's Daughter, and sing--) Now you may play us an Alba, singer, A dance of dawn for a spring-green lady, For the leaf is now on the apple-bough, And the sun is high and the lawn is shady, Singer, singer, Wandering singer, O my honey-sweet singer! The Wandering Singer plays on his lute, and The Ladies break their ranks and dance. The Singer steals up behind The Emperor's Daughter, who uncovers her face and sings--) THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER Mother, mother, my fair dead mother, They have stolen the flower from your weeping daughter! THE WANDERING SINGER O dry your eyes, you shall have this other When yours is a thousand leagues over the water, Daughter, daughter, My sweet daughter! Love is not far, my daughter! The Singer then drops a second flower into the lap of the child in the middle, and goes away, and this ends the first part of the game. The Emperor's Daughter is not yet released, for the key of her tower is understood to be still in the keeping of the dancing children. Very likely it is bed-time by this, and mothers are calling from windows and gates, and the children must run home to their warm bread-and-milk and their cool sheets. But if time is still to spare, the second part of the game is played like this. The dancers once more encircle their weeping comrade, and now they are gowned in white and pink. They will indicate these changes perhaps by colored ribbons, or by any flower in its season, or by imagining themselves first in green and then in rose, which is really the best way of all. Well then-- (The Ladies, in gowns of white and rose-color, stand around The Emperor's Daughter, weeping in her Tower. To them once more comes The Wandering Singer with his lute.) THE WANDERING SINGER Lady, lady, my rose-white lady, May I come into your orchard, lady? For the blossom's now on the apple-bough And the stars are near and the lawn is shady, Lady, lady, My fair lady, O my rose-white lady! THE LADIES You may not come into our orchard, singer, Lest you bear a word to the Emperor's Daughter From one who was sent to banishment Away a thousand leagues over the water, Singer, singer, Wandering singer, O my honey-sweet singer! THE WANDERING SINGER