Now green, now red it seemed, "Beshrew me," quoth King Arthur, Down she threw the mantle, To her chamber flung away. She cursed the rascal weaver, "I had rather live in deserts, Beneath the greenwood tree, Than here, base king, among thy grooms, The sport of them and thee." Sir Kay called forth his lady, This lady, pertly giggling, With forward step came on, And boldly to the little boy With fearless face is gone. When she had taken the mantle, Then every merry knight, That was in Arthur's court, Gibed and laughed and flouted, To see that pleasant sport. Down she threw the mantle, No longer bold or gay, But, with a face all pale and wan, To her chamber slunk away. Then forth came an old knight “And all the time of Christmas Plum-porridge shall be thine, If thou wilt let my lady fair Within the mantle shine." A saint his lady seemed, With step demure and slow, And gravely to the mantle With mincing face doth go. When she the same had taken It shrivelled all about her, Ah! little did her mincing, Or his long prayers bestead; She had no more hung on her Than a tassel and a thread. Down she threw the mantle, To her chamber hied away. Sir Cradock called his lady, And bade her to come near: "Come win this mantle, lady, And do me credit here: "Come win this mantle, lady, The lady, gently blushing, With modest grace came on; When she had ta'en the mantle, And put it on her back, To wrinkle and to crack. "Lie still," she cried, "O mantle ! I'll freely own whate'er amiss Or blameful I have wrought "Once I kissed Sir Cradock When she had thus her shriven, Most rich and fair of color, Like gold it glittering shone, And much the knights in Arthur's court Admired her every one. The ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking-horn, in both of which the result was |