Now, about a twelvemonth after the time that the dame had nursed the fairy lady, the great fair was held at Tavistock.  All the world and his wife were there, so, of course, Dame Margery went also.  And the fair was well worth going to, I can tell you!  Booths stood along in a row in the yellow sunlight of the summer-time, and flags and streamers of many colors fluttered in the breeze from long poles at the end of each booth.  Ale flowed like water, and dancing was going on on the green, for Peter Weeks the piper was there, and his pipes were with him.  It was a fine sight to see all of the youths and maids, decked in fine ribbons of pink and blue, dancing hand-in-hand to his piping.  In the great tent the country people had spread out their goods—­butter, cheese, eggs, honey, and the like—­making as goodly a show as you would want to see.  Dame Margery was in her glory, for she had people to gossip with everywhere; so she went hither and thither, and at last into the great tent where these things of which I have spoken were all spread out for show.

[Illustration:  Dame Twist sees the little man in green for the last time]

Then, lo and behold! who should she see, gliding here and there among the crowd of other people, but the little man in green whom she had seen a year ago.  She opened her eyes mightily wide, for she saw that he was doing a strange thing.  By his side hung a little earthenware pot, and in his hand he held a little wooden scraper, which he passed over the rolls of butter, afterwards putting that which he scraped from the rolls into the pot that hung beside him.  Dame Margery peeped into the pot, and saw that it was half full; then she could contain herself no longer.

“Hey-day, neighbor!” cried she, “here be pretty doings, truly!  Out upon thee, to go scraping good luck and full measure off of other folks’ butter!”

When the little man in green heard the dame speak to him, he was so amazed that he nearly dropped his wooden scraper.  “Why, Dame Margery! can you see me then?”

“Aye, marry can I!  And what you are about doing also; out upon you, say I!”

“And did you not rub your eyes with the red salve then?” said the little man.

“One eye, yes, but one eye, no,” said the dame, slyly.

“Which eye do you see me with?” said he.

“With this eye, gossip, and very clearly, I would have you know,” and she pointed to her right eye.

Then the little man swelled out his cheeks until they were like two little brown dumplings.  Puff! he blew a breath into the good dame’s eye.  Puff! he blew, and if the dame’s eye had been a candle, the light of it could not have gone out sooner.

The dame felt no smart, but she might wink and wink, and wink again, but she would never wink sight into the eye upon which the little man had blown his breath, for it was blind as the stone wall back of the mill, where Tom the tinker kissed the miller’s daughter.