[Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha’, Bold Arthur’s lost his little foot-page, To the green-wood stown awa’.] XXX And word has gane to the Kingis court, To the King himsel’ [at dine] ‘Now, by my fay,’ the King can say, [‘Sweet Willy we maun find.’] XXXI ‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the King, ‘My bow and arrows keen; I’ll ride mysel’ to good green-wood An’ see what’s to be seen.’ XXXII ‘An’t please your grace,’ says Bold Arthur, ‘My liege I’ll gang you wi’, An’ try to find my little foot-page That’s stray’d awa’ frae me.’ XXXIII O they have hunted in good green-wood The back but and the rae. And they’ve drawn near Brown Robin’s bow’r About the close of day. XXXIV Then out it spak’ the King in haste, Says, ‘Arthur, look an’ see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree?’ XXXV Bold Arthur took his bugle-horn, And blew a blast sae shrill, Sweet Willy started at the sound And ran him quickly till. XXXVI ‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or get ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa’ frae me?’-- XXXVII ‘I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye aye was good; I came but to see my ae brither That wons[398] in this green-wood.’ XXXVIII Then out and spak’ the King again, Says, ‘Bonny boy, tell to me Who lives into yon bigly bow’r, Stands by yon green oak-tree?’ XXXIX ‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy, ‘My liege, I daurna tell; And I pray you go no near that bow’r, For fear they do you fell[399].’-- XL ‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy. For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bow’r within, Betide me weal or wae.’ XLI They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds, And saftly enter’d in; And then they saw her, Rose the Red, Nursing her bonny young son. XLII ‘Now, by the rood,’ the King could say, ‘This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester, This is a lady bright!’ XLIII Then out it spake White Lilly And fell down on her knee: ‘O pardon us, my gracious liege, An’ our story I’ll tell to thee. XLIV ‘Our father was a wealthy lord, That wonn’d in Barnèsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us mickle bale[400]. XLV ‘Yet she had twa as fu’ fair sons As ever the sun did see; An’ the tane o’ them lo’ed my sister dear, An’ the tother said he lo’ed me.’ XLVI Then out and spak’ him Bold Arthur, As by the King he stood, ‘Now, this should be my White Lilly, An’ that should be Rose the Red!’ XLVII