Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing.  He sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his feet.  Then there entered the two maidens who had led him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich raiment, fitting for a knight’s apparel.  When Launfal had clothed himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under heaven, for certainly he was fair and true.  After these maidens had refreshed him with clear water, and dried his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went to meat.  His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he to refuse her courtesy.  Very serviceably the damsels bore the meats, and Launfal and the Maiden ate and drank with mirth and content.  But one dish was more to the knight’s relish than any other.  Sweeter than the dainties within his mouth, was the lady’s kiss upon his lips.

When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, for his horse stood waiting without the pavilion.  The destrier was newly saddled and bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings.  So Launfal kissed, and bade farewell, and went his way.  He rode back towards the city at a slow pace.  Often he checked his steed, and looked behind him, for he was filled with amazement, and all bemused concerning this adventure.  In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream.  He was altogether astonished, and knew not what to do.  He feared that pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery.

Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by servitors, clad no longer in ragged raiment.  He fared richly, lay softly, and spent largely, but never knew how his purse was filled.  There was no lord who had need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him to his hall, for refreshment and delight.  Launfal bestowed rich gifts.  Launfal redeemed the poor captive.  Launfal clothed in scarlet the minstrel.  Launfal gave honour where honour was due.  Stranger and friend alike he comforted at need.  So, whether by night or by day, Launfal lived greatly at his ease.  His lady, she came at will and pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added unto him.

Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. John, a company of knights came, for their solace, to an orchard, beneath that tower where dwelt the Queen.  Together with these lords went Gawain and his cousin, Yvain the fair.  Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, beloved and dear to all,

“Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without our comrade Launfal.  It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than our own.”

Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and finding Launfal within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that fair meadow.  The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and three ladies of her fellowship.  They saw the lords at their pleasure, and Launfal also, whom well they knew.  So the Queen chose of her Court thirty damsels—­the sweetest of face and