CHAPTER XII. BIRDALONE COMETH AGAIN TO THE ISLE OF QUEENS, AND FINDETH A PERILOUS ADVENTURE THEREIN.
CHAPTER XV. BIRDALONE LACKETH LITTLE OF DROWNING, BUT COMETH LATTERLY TO THE GREEN EYOT.
CHAPTER XVI. BIRDALONE FINDETH HER WITCH-MISTRESS DEAD.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE WOOD-MOTHER COMETH TO BIRDALONE AND HEARETH HER STORY.
CHAPTER XIX. HABUNDIA HIDETH BIRDALONE’S NAKEDNESS WITH FAERY RAIMENT.
CHAPTER XXI. HOW THE WOOD-WIFE ENTERED THE COT, AND A WONDER THAT BEFELL THEREON.
CHAPTER XXII. BIRDALONE WENDETH THE WILDWOOD IN FELLOWSHIP WITH HABUNDIA.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE WOOD-WIFE BRINGETH BIRDALONE TO THE SIGHT OF ARTHUR IN THE WILDWOOD.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE WOOD-MOTHER CHANGETH HER FORM TO THAT OF A WOMAN STRICKEN IN YEARS.
CHAPTER XXV. THE WOOD-WIFE HEALETH AND TENDETH THE BLACK SQUIRE.
CHAPTER XXVII. SIR ARTHUR COMETH TO THE HOUSE UNDER THE WOOD.
CHAPTER XXVIII. FAIR DAYS IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE.
CHAPTER XXIX. THOSE TWAIN WILL SEEK THE WISDOM OF THE WOOD-WIFE.
CHAPTER XXX. THEY HAVE SPEECH WITH HABUNDIA CONCERNING THE GREEN KNIGHT AND HIS FELLOWS.
CHAPTER XXXI. HABUNDIA COMETH WITH TIDINGS OF THOSE DEAR FRIENDS.
CHAPTER XXXIII. VIRIDIS TELLETH THE TALE OF THEIR SEEKING.
THE SEVENTH PART: THE DAYS OF RETURNING.
CHAPTER I. SIR HUGH ASKETH BIRDALONE WHERE SHE WOULD HAVE THE ABODE OF THEIR FELLOWSHIP TO BE.
CHAPTER II. BIRDALONE TAKETH COUNSEL WITH HER WOOD-MOTHER CONCERNING THE MATTER OF SIR HUGH.
CHAPTER III. OF THE JOURNEYING THROUGH THE FOREST OF EVILSHAW UNTO THE TOWN OF UTTERHAY.
CHAPTER IV. OF THE ABIDING IN UTTERHAY IN LOVE AND CONTENTMENT.
THE FIRST PART: OF THE HOUSE OF CAPTIVITY.
CHAPTER I. CATCH AT UTTERHAY.
Whilom, as tells the tale, was a walled cheaping-town hight Utterhay, which was builded in a bight of the land a little off the great highway which went from over the mountains to the sea.
The said town was hard on the borders of a wood, which men held to be mighty great, or maybe measureless; though few indeed had entered it, and they that had, brought back tales wild and confused thereof.
Therein was neither highway nor byway, nor wood-reeve nor way-warden; never came chapman thence into Utterhay; no man of Utterhay was so poor or so bold that he durst raise the hunt therein; no outlaw durst flee thereto; no man of God had such trust in the saints that he durst build him a cell in that wood.
For all men deemed it more than perilous; and some said that there walked the worst of the dead; othersome that the Goddesses of the Gentiles haunted there; others again that it was the faery rather, but they full of malice and guile. But most commonly it was deemed that the devils swarmed amidst of its thickets, and that wheresoever a man sought to, who was once environed by it, ever it was the Gate of Hell whereto he came. And the said wood was called Evilshaw.
Nevertheless the cheaping-town throve not ill; for whatso evil things haunted Evilshaw, never came they into Utterhay in such guise that men knew them, neither wotted they of any hurt that they had of the Devils of Evilshaw.
Now in the said cheaping-town, on a day, it was market and high noon, and in the market-place was much people thronging; and amidst of them went a woman, tall, and strong of aspect, of some thirty winters by seeming, black-haired, hook-nosed and hawk-eyed, not so fair to look on as masterful and proud. She led a great grey ass betwixt two panniers, wherein she laded her marketings. But now she had done her chaffer, and was looking about her as if to note the folk for her disport; but when she came across a child, whether it were borne in arms or led by its kinswomen, or were going alone, as were some, she seemed more heedful of it, and eyed it more closely than aught else.
So she strolled about till she was come to the outskirts of the throng, and there she happened on a babe of some two winters, which was crawling about on its hands and knees, with scarce a rag upon its little body. She watched it, and looked whereto it was going, and saw a woman sitting on a stone, with none anigh her, her face bowed over her knees as if she were weary or sorry. Unto her crept the little one, murmuring and merry, and put its arms about the woman’s legs, and buried its face in the folds of her gown: she looked up therewith, and showed a face which had once been full fair, but was now grown bony and haggard, though she were scarce past five and twenty years. She took the child and strained it to her bosom, and kissed