Slowly, Gregory shook his head, eyes round as shillings.

The brownie lifted his head, and smiled gently. "Well, small wonder. Few are the mortals who ever do see any of the Wee Folk—and they're never heeded. Their mothers and fathers laugh at them, or think them crazed—as do their play-mates. And never doth one see us, once he's grown."

"Save these," Puck qualified, "and their parents."

"Aye," the brownie admitted, "yet they're not so mortal as most There's something of the elf about them."

Puck glanced nervously up at the children, then back at the brownie. "Aye, they're magic folk, indeed, as thou hast seen." The brownie started to say something, but Puck overrode him. "Now do thou bear the word! And let thy villagers begin to think 'tis safe to come back and rebuild their homes —so long as they do keep fools from that hillside."

The brownie nodded. "A good thought. They'll have their homes again, and we'll have guards."

"Even as thou sayest," Puck agreed. "Now go!"

The brownie grinned, and disappeared.

Gregory still stared at the place where he'd been.

"Aye—enjoy the sight of them, whilst thou may," Puck advised him, "for they be shy folk, these brownies, and will most assuredly not show themselves to thee when thou art grown." He turned to Cordelia. "Where doth thy mount wish to take thee now?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Nowhere, Robin. She doth attend us in docility."

Puck frowned. "'Tis not the way of unicorns, for all I've heard of them."

"Have you never seen one before?" Fess asked quickly.

"Once," Puck admitted, "but 'twas two hundred years agone. As I've said, they do be shy."

"Then perhaps he wishes to repay your kindness, by serving Cordelia awhile longer," Fess suggested.

Puck nodded. "That hath the ring of lightness to it—and her aid will be welcomed, I assure thee." Aid in what, Puck didn't say. He only sighed, and turned away. "Come, children. Thou hast had thine adventure for the day. 'Tis time to turn thy steps homeward."

"But, Puck," Geoffrey protested, "'tis noon—and I am hungered."

Puck stopped. For the count of ten, he stood very still.

Then he turned back with a sigh. "Well, 'twill occupy some time. But I warn thee, if thou dost wish to eat, thou must needs catch thy dinner."

What with gathering, preparing, cooking, and eating, lunch took two hours. For some reason, Puck didn't object. He didn't even try to hurry them.

Finally, he ordered them to put out the fire and start for home. When the ashes were a sodden mass, he pronounced them safe, and started back into the forest. The unicorn followed, with Cordelia singing and Fess bringing up the rear. The boys darted ahead, playing tree-tag.

Gregory ducked behind an oak with a giggle of delight— that turned into a cry of dismay as a crackly voice howled, "Owwww! Me head! Me shoulder! Ye vasty clumsy oaf, can ye not see where one hangs in distress?"

Magnus and Geoffrey popped out of hiding and exchanged startled glances—but Cordelia glowered and shot off toward her little brother's voice on her broomstick. The boys leaped after her.

"I—I am sorry," Gregory stammered. "I had not meant to injure thee."

The voice softened amazingly. "Why, 'tis naught but a bairn! There now, laddie, be of good cheer. 'Tis the way of lads to be careless and blundering, surely. Eh, but ye must not let the nasty old elf afright ye!"

Puck popped up out of the underbrush right in front of Cordelia and the boys, scowling up at the oak tree, arms akimbo. "Why, thou knob, thou burl! How hast thou grown out of that limb?"

The elf whirled to glare at him—and went on whirling, with a yelp of dismay. He dangled from the lowest branch of the oak by a silver chain. One end was wrapped around his middle; the other was tied to the tree.

"Must thou forever be asking, sprite?" he squalled. "Is't not enough for ye, to see that one of yer kind stands in need of yer aid? Nay, be done with yer askin', and pry me loose from this devil's contrivance!"

A slow grin spread over Puck's face. "Nay, I think not. Thou dost well adorn this old tree."

The elf sputtered and fumed at him. He was shorter than Puck, only a foot high—or long, in his present position—and was clutching a green top hat, to keep it on his head. His coat was green, too—a swallow-tailed cutaway—and so were his knee breeches. But his weskit was saffron, and his stockings were white. His shoes were black, with gleaming buckles. He wore a brown forked beard and a scowl. "I might ha' known," he grated. "What else ought I expect from the Puck?"

"Ah," Puck cried in mock surprise, "dost thou know me, then?"

"What one of the Wee Folk would not know ye, ye addle-pated, idling jester? Surely none who labor could help but know of him who only passes time in mischief!"

Gregory frowned. "But the Wee Folk do not labor—save the gnomes, who mine, and the dwarves, who craft—yet thou art neither."

"See ye not his clothes?" the top-hatted elf pointed at Puck. "See ye not his shoes? Dost'a think Robin Goodfellow would craft his own?"

Cordelia caught her breath and clapped her hands. "I know thee now! Thou art a fairies' shoemaker!"

The elf swept off his hat, clapping it to his stomach, and bowed his head. "The same, sweet lass!"

"Why dost thou wear green and saffron?" Geoffrey asked.

"Why, for that he's Irish," Puck said, with a lopsided grin. "Yet Erin's Wee Folk ever wore their whiskers in fringes round their chins, and ne'er did wear moustaches. Wherefore is thy beard so long?"

"And forked?" Magnus added.

"Why, 'tis because my forebears came from the Holy Land in bygone ages."

"From Judea?" Gregory asked, wide-eyed.

The elf nodded.

"Then," cried Cordelia, "thou art…"

"A leprecohen." The elf inclined his head again. "Kelly McGoldbagel stands ready't' serve ye."

"Nay; he doth hang." Puck squinted up at the silver chain. "How didst thou come to so sad a pass, elf?"

Kelly's face reddened. "'Tis a foul brute of a Sassenach landlord hath done me thus, belike with the aid of an Ulster witch! For how else would he ha' known that naught but a

silver chain could hold a leprecohen?"

"And to hold him in it the whiles he did unearth thy crock of gold?" Puck guessed.

" 'Tis a foul thief!" Kelly bawled. " 'Tis a highway robber who doth not hearken to the words an elf doth say!"

"Or who doth attend them too shrewdly, belike," Puck snorted. "Nay, thy kindred are famed in the Faery Kingdom for the oaths they break in spirit, the whiles they heed their letter!"

"Oaths that are forced!" Kelly howled. "Oaths extorted, under pain of prison! How binding could such be?"

"As binding as a silver chain," Magnus pointed out. "Should we not pluck thee from this branch ere we talk longer?"

"Aye, and greatly would I thank yer worship!" Kelly nodded so fiercely that he began a slow rotation again. "Oy vay! I beg thee, good laddie, bring me down!"

Magnus floated up and untied the chain from the limb.

"Here now, gently! Carefully!" Kelly chewed at his beard. "Have a care when ye loose the knot—I've more weight than ye'd suspect!"

"Why, then, I shall support thee," Cordelia declared.

"What, ye? Why, how couldst thou, lass? Thou'rt not even near… Whuh!"

Magnus pulled the last strand of chain, and the knot fell open. Kelly plummeted, with a shout of terror—all of about an inch. "What! But… How… Eh! But I'm drifting!"

"Down to the ground," Cordelia assured him. "It but took me a moment to gauge thy weight."

"Eh! But a nasty turn ye gave me!" Kelly grumbled. "Why could ye not but say… Um. Aye. Thou didst."