Now one of them has his leg thrust out from under the bed, so the lad brings his sword down and cuts it off. Then another thrusts his arm out at other side of the bed, and the lad cuts that off. So at last he had maimed them all, and they all went crying and wailing off, and forgot the ball, but he took it from under the bed, and went to seek his true-love. Now the lass was taken to York to be hanged; she was brought out on the scaffold, and the hangman said, "Now, lass, thou must hang by the neck till thou be'st dead." But she cried out: "Stop, stop, I think I see my mother coming! O mother, hast brought my golden ball And come to set me free?" "I've neither brought thy golden ball Nor come to set thee free, But I have come to see thee hung Upon this gallows-tree." Then the hangman said, "Now, lass, say thy prayers for thou must die." But she said: "Stop, stop, I think I see my father coming! O father, hast brought my golden ball And come to set me free?" "I've neither brought thy golden ball Nor come to set thee free, But I have come to see thee hung Upon this gallows-tree." Then the hangman said, "Hast thee done thy prayers? Now, lass, put thy head into the noose." But she answered, "Stop, stop, I think I see my brother coming!" And again she sang, and then she thought she saw her sister coming, then her uncle, then her aunt, then her cousin; but after this the hangman said, "I will stop no longer, thou 'rt making game of me. Thou must be hung at once." But now she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd, and he held over his head in the air her own golden ball; so she said: "Stop, stop, I see my sweetheart coming! Sweetheart, hast brought my golden ball And come to set me free?" "Aye, I have brought thy golden ball And come to set thee free, I have not come to see thee hung Upon this gallows-tree." And he took her home, and they lived happy ever after. My Own Self In a tiny house in the North Countrie, far away from any town or village, there lived not long ago, a poor widow all alone with her little son, a six-year-old boy. The house-door opened straight on to the hill-side and all round about were moorlands and huge stones, and swampy hollows; never a house nor a sign of life wherever you might look, for their nearest neighbours were the "ferlies" in the glen below, and the "will-o'-the-wisps" in the long grass along the pathside. And many a tale she could tell of the "good folk" calling to each other in the oak-trees, and the twinkling lights hopping on to the very window sill, on dark nights; but in spite of the loneliness, she lived on from year to year in the little house, perhaps because she was never asked to pay any rent for it.