King. Good dame, Godmother of our daughter dear,
Perhaps thou’st heard our tale of woe. 
Our children twain are stolen away
By Ogre Grim, mine ancient foe.

All up and down the land we’ve sought
For help to break into his tower. 
And now, our searching all for nought,
We’ve come to beg the Witch’s power.

  [Godmother springs forward, finger to lip, and anxiously waves
    them away from orchard.

Godmother. Nay!  Nay!  Your Majesty, go not
Within that orchard, now I pray! 
The Witch and Ogre are in league. 
They’ve wrought you fearful harm this day. 
She brewed a draught to change the prince
Into a dog!  Oh, woe is me! 
I passed the tower and heard him bark: 
Alack!  That I must tell it thee!

  [Queen shrieks and falls back in the King’s arms, then recovering
      falls to wailing.

Queen. My noble son a dog? A beast?
It cannot, must not, shall not be! 
I’ll brave the Ogre in his den,
And plead upon my bended knee!

Godmother. Thou couldst not touch his heart of stone. 
He’d keep thee captive in his lair. 
The Princess Winsome can alone
Remove the cause of thy despair. 
And I unto the tower will climb,
And ere is gone the sunset’s red,
Shall bid her spin a counter charm—­
A skein of Love’s own Golden Thread. 
Take heart, O mother Queen!  Be brave! 
Take heart, O gracious King, I pray! 
Well can she spin Love’s Golden Thread,
And Love can always find a way! [Exit Godmother.

Queen. She’s gone, good dame.  But what if she
Has made mistake, and thread of gold
Is not enough to draw our son
From out the Ogre’s cruel hold? 
Canst think of nought, your Majesty? 
Of nothing else?  Must we stand here
And powerless lift no hand to speed
The rescue of our children dear?

  [King clasps hand to his head in thought, then starts forward.

King. I have it now!  This hour I’ll send
Swift heralds through my wide domains,
To say the knight who rescues them
Shall wed the Princess for his pains.

Queen. Quick!  Let us fly!  I hear the sound of feet,
As if some horseman were approaching nigher. 
’Twould not be seemly should he meet
Our royal selves so near the Witch’s fire.

  [They start to run, but are met by Knight on horseback in centre of
    stage.  He dismounts and drops to one knee.

King. ’Tis Feal the Faithful!  Rise, Sir Knight, And tell us what thou doest here!

Knight. O Sire, I know your children’s plight I go to ease your royal fear.

Queen. Now if thou bringst them back to us, A thousand blessings on thy head.

King. Ay, half my kingdom shall be thine.  The Princess Winsome thou shalt wed.