But now one of the band came to say that the feast was spread upon the grass; so, Robin leading the way, the others followed to where the goodly feast was spread. Merry was the meal. Jest and story passed freely, and all laughed till the forest rang again. Allan laughed with the rest, for his cheeks were flushed with the hope that Robin Hood had given him. At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to Allan, who sat beside him. "Now, Allan," quoth he, "so much has been said of thy singing that we would fain have a taste of thy skill ourselves. Canst thou not give us something?" "Surely," answered Allan readily; for he was no third-rate songster that must be asked again and again, but said "yes" or "no" at the first bidding; so, taking up his harp, he ran his fingers lightly over the sweetly sounding strings, and all was hushed about the cloth. Then, backing his voice with sweet music on his harp, he sang: MAY ELLEN'S WEDDING (Giving an account of how she was beloved by a fairy prince, who took her to his own home.) "_May Ellen sat beneath a thorn And in a shower around The blossoms fell at every breeze Like snow upon the ground, And in a lime tree near was heard The sweet song of a strange, wild bird. "O sweet, sweet, sweet, O piercing sweet, O lingering sweet the strain! May Ellen's heart within her breast Stood still with blissful pain: And so, with listening, upturned face, She sat as dead in that fair place. "'Come down from out the blossoms, bird! Come down from out the tree, And on my heart I'll let thee lie, And love thee tenderly!' Thus cried May Ellen, soft and low, From where the hawthorn shed its snow. "Down dropped the bird on quivering wing, From out the blossoming tree, And nestled in her snowy breast. 'My love! my love!' cried she; Then straightway home, 'mid sun and flower, She bare him to her own sweet bower. "The day hath passed to mellow night, The moon floats o'er the lea, And in its solemn, pallid light A youth stands silently: A youth of beauty strange and rare, Within May Ellen's bower there. "He stood where o'er the pavement cold The glimmering moonbeams lay. May Ellen gazed with wide, scared eyes, Nor could she turn away, For, as in mystic dreams we see A spirit, stood he silently. "All in a low and breathless voice, 'Whence comest thou?' said she; 'Art thou the creature of a dream, Or a vision that I see?' Then soft spake he, as night winds shiver Through straining reeds beside the river. "'I came, a bird on feathered wing, From distant Faeryland Where murmuring waters softly sing Upon the golden strand, Where sweet trees are forever green; And there my mother is the queen.' . . . . . . .