"You've been a long time coming!" said the Moor-woman.
"Witches get forward faster than men, and I'm glad that I belong to
the witch folk!"
"What have you to say to me now?" asked the man. "Is it
anything about the Story?"
"Can you never get beyond asking about that?" retorted the
woman.
"Can you tell me anything about the poetry of the future?"
resumed the man.
"Don't get on your stilts," said the crone, "and I'll
answer you. You think of nothing but poetry, and only ask about
that Story, as if she were the lady of the whole troop. She's the
oldest of us all, but she takes precedence of the youngest. I know
her well. I've been young, too, and she's no chicken now. I was
once quite a pretty elf-maiden, and have danced in my time with the
others in the moonlight, and have hea
