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became servant to old Miss Drew, who never let her go to the meadows, the woods, or the river, and locked up the house at seven o’clock.
    But in the course of time, Young Kate married, and had children and a little servant of her own. And when the day’s work was done, she opened the door and said, ‘Run along now, children, into the meadows, or down to the river, or up to the hill, for I shouldn’t wonder but you’ll have the luck to meet the Green Woman there, or the River King, or the Dancing Boy.’
    And the children and the servant girl would go out, and presently Kate would see them come home again, singing and dancing with their hands full of flowers.

THE FLOWER WITHOUT A NAME

    One day a Cottager’s child, whose name was Christie, went into the meadows beyond her Mother’s garden and picked a flower. This happened long ago, yet not so long ago as all that; that is to say, it did not happen today, nor did it happen on the first day of all, but on some day in between.
    Christie was delighted with her flower, for it was very beautiful, and she came running to find her Mother, who was watering the pinks in the round bed.
    â€˜Mother,’ cried Christie, ‘look at my pretty flower I’ve found!’
    Her Mother was never too busy to look when Christie asked her to, so she put down her jug of water and took the flower in her hand.
    â€˜There’s a pretty flower now!’ she said.
    â€˜Yes, Mother, isn’t it?’ said Christie. ‘What is its name?’
    â€˜Why,’ said her Mother, ‘it is a—it is a—Dear me, to think I don’t know its name! You must ask Father.’
    Christie ran to the Cottager, who was mending the fence, and she held up her flower. ‘What is its name, Father?’ she asked.
    â€˜Let me see now,’ said the Cottager, laying down his hammer. He looked at the flower for a minute or two, and then he scratched his head. ‘Well, well!’ said he. ‘I’ve forgotten its name, if ever I knew it. But give it to me, for I’m to see my Lord’s Keeper about some mole-traps, and maybe he’ll know, being woodwise.’
    When Christie’s Father had had his talk with the Keeper, he showed him the flower. ‘What’s the name of this here? ‘asked the Cottager.
    The Keeper looked at it, and sniffed at it, and thought a bit. But at the end of his thinking he said, ‘I never saw its like before, in wood or field or marsh or hedge. I don’t know its name. However, I’m just about going up to the Manor, so I’ll take it along and ask my Lord’s Clerk, for he’s a clever young man, and has to wear spectacles along of reading so many books.’
    Now my Lord’s Clerk had studied most things, and flowers not the least of them. He had indeed in his Lord’s library all the books about flowers that ever were written. So when the Keeper sought him out and said, ‘I’ve a flower here I’d like to know the name of,’ the Clerk answered, ‘Show it to me, and I’ll tell you its name.’
    But when he set eyes on it he knew he had spoken too soon.
    â€˜That’s a queer thing!’ said my Lord’s Clerk. ‘For I know the names of all the flowers in the world, by both their court and country names, yet I don’t know the name of this one. Leave it with me, and I’ll see if I can find out.’
    The Keeper left the flower with the Clerk, and the Clerk pressed it and dried it, and spent a whole year trying to find out something about it. He put the question to the wisest scholars in the kingdom, and the matter spread abroad till wise men in lands over the sea were all puzzling their wits about the name of the flower. But in the end they could not find one for it.
    So after a twelvemonth the Clerk came to the Keeper and said, ‘That flower you brought me has no name at all.’
    â€˜What flower’s that?’ asked