III.
Every morning Lura woke at four,
Swept the hearth and scrubbed the kitchen floor,
Fetched great sacks of wood and lumps of peat,
Lit the stoves and put the drums to heat.
All day long she laboured like a slave,
Ever patient, diligent and brave,
Minding well to heed the Head Cook's rule,
"For," he told her, "If you prove a fool
First I'll have thee flogged, and then exiled
Back unto the reaches of the wild."
But, indeed, his threats were vainly made:
Every task was perfectly obeyed,
So that, soon enough, it came to pass
He could not well do without the lass!
Now and then, as Lura scrubbed the stair
Faravel the Prince did pass her there.
"Well met, Thousand-Furs!" he would exclaim,
(For the girl was now known by that name)
"And art thou content with thy new post?"
"Less than some," quoth she, "but more than most."
Then the prince would laugh and so depart
Leaving Lura with an aching heart
For, so be it known, the young princess
Loved the prince with all her might - oh yes:
Nights of tears, and days forlorn, were hers –
Stifled well beneath her cape of furs.
And 'twas little wonder that she fell
Under this most charming prince's spell:
Passing fair, and bold and chivalrous,
Kindly too – aye, and magnanimous:
Never had before a young man's worth
So well matched the station of his birth.