28 Make-Beleve

in the village. The words and the music
both seemed quite new to her, although
she knew them perfectly, and to this day
she cannot remember where and how she
learned them :

Lady Mary, in your bower
Why weep ye sadly ?
Tall and white your lies flower,
All birds sing gladly.
Mary, Lady Mary,
What sorrow bear ye ?

Tis the child that shall be born
(Foolish thou, who questioneth ),

Tis the crown of cruel thorn,
And the sure appointed death.

Mary, Mother, left alone,
Why go ye gladly ? .
Wherefore make ye not your moan,
Weeping most sadly ?
Mary, Mother Mary,
What comfort bear ye?

The painter worked while she was sing-
ing and the child marvelled at the swift-
ness with which the picture progressed,