A sequel to Puck of Pook's Hill.
I've heard he never could be warm at any fire afterwards. I should have been surprised if he could! Then I whipped up the babe, and came flying home here like a bat to his belfry.
'On the dewy break of morning of Thor's own day--just such a day as this--I laid the babe outside the Hill here, and the People flocked up and wondered at the sight.
'"You've brought him, then?" Sir Huon said, staring like any mortal man.
'"Yes, and he's brought his mouth with him too," I said. The babe was crying loud for his breakfast.
'"What is he?" says Sir Huon, when the womenfolk had drawn him under to feed him.
'"Full Moon and Morning Star may know," I says. "I don't. By what I could make out of him in the moonlight, he's without brand or blemish. I'll answer for it that he's born on the far side of Cold Iron, for he was born under a shaw on Terrible Down, and I've wronged neither man, woman, nor child in taking him, for he is the son of a dead slave woman."
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