Hoc carmen non composui, Quod cano, quod cano! King René began to laugh; and he laughed and laughed till the tears fairly ran down his cheeks; for what do you think the words really mean? They mean: I did not make this song, That I sing, that I sing! When the king at last managed to stop laughing for a few minutes, he translated the lines so that every one could hear. At first Count William looked very blank; then, realizing how cleverly the tables had been turned upon him and he had been caught in his own prank, he enjoyed the joke as much as anybody, and laughed the loudest of all. Indeed, such a “Ha, ha!” as went up through the whole banquet-hall was never before heard, and the very rafters seemed to shake with glee. The good king was so delighted with the entertainment that he called Count Reynaurd and Count William both before him, and taking a hand of each, he declared that the jeweled collar must be divided equally between them. He at once ordered his goldsmiths to set to work to make it into two collars instead of one; which they could very easily do, as it was so wide and heavy. Then the king had a lovely silver cup brought in for Pierrot, because of his cleverness in the Latin tongue; and afterward the whole company of troubadours and minnesingers and pages sat down and feasted so merrily that, years later, when Pierrot himself grew to be a famous troubadour, he used often to sing, in the castles of the French nobles, of the gaiety of that great festival. THE LOST RUNE THE LEGEND OF A LOST POEM AND THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE ELSA IN RESTORING IT TO HER PEOPLE Eery, airy, Elf and fairy, Steep me deep in magic dreams! Charm from harm of water witches, Guide where hide the hoarded riches Sunken in Suomi streams! As the strains of Elsa’s voice floated up and wandered away among the cottage rafters, “Bravo”! cried her father; “bravo, little one! Already thou singest like the April cuckoo!” Elsa, the little Finnish girl thus addressed, smiled with pleasure, and nestled closer to her father’s reindeer coat as he proudly patted her fair hair and gave her an approving hug. The two were sitting on a rude bench drawn out from the cottage wall; and here they had been all the evening, singing snatches of strange old songs, and toasting their toes at the turf fire that blazed in the great fireplace. It was barely September, but in the far North, the winter begins early and the winds sweep with a bitter chill across the wide plains of Suomi, the old name by which the Finnish people love best to call their land.