Thenagainshemovedaboutthehall，makingallthingsreadyforthefeast。Butatmidnight，whenthelightwaslowandfolkslept，Groarose，and，veiledinablackrobe，withabasketinherhand，passedlikeashadowthroughthemiststhathangabouttheriver’sedge，andinsilence，alwayslookingbehindher，likeonewhofearsahiddenfoe，culledflowersofnoisomeplantsthatgrowinthemarsh。Herbasketbeingfilled，shepassedroundthesteadtoahiddendelluponthemountainside。Hereamanstoodwaiting，andnearhimburnedafireofturf。Inhishandheheldaniron-pot。ItwasKolltheHalf-
witted，Groa’sthrall。
“Areallthingsready，Koll？“shesaid。
“Yes。”heanswered；“butIlikenotthesetasksofthine，mistress。
Saynow，whatwouldstthoudowiththefireandthepot？“