Then Guinevere, delighted at the success of her suit with her royal husband, sent for the knight to appear before her, in her own bower, where she sat among the ladies of her chamber.

When the knight, who was called Sir Ulric, had reached the royal lady’s presence, he would have thrown himself at her feet with many thanks for the dear boon which she had caused the king to grant him.  But she motioned him to listen to what she had to say, before she would receive his gratitude.

“Defer all thanks, Sir Knight,” said the queen, “until first I state to thee the conditions on which thou yet holdest thy life.  It is granted thee to be free of death, if within one year and a day from this present thou art able to declare to me what of earthly things all women like the best.  If in that time thou canst tell, past all dispute, what this thing be, thou shalt have thy life and freedom.  Otherwise, on my queenly honor, thou diest, as the king had first decreed.”

When the knight heard this he was filled with consternation and dismay too great for words.  At once in his heart he accused the king of cruelty in permitting him to drag out a miserable existence for a whole year in endeavoring to fulfill a condition which in his thoughts he at once resolved to be impossible.  For who could decide upon what would please all ladies best, when it was agreed by all wise men that no two of the uncertain sex would ever fix upon one and the same thing?

With these desponding thoughts Sir Ulric went out of the queen’s presence, and prepared to travel abroad over the country, if perchance by inquiring far and wide he might find out the answer which would save his life.

From house to house and from town to town traveled Sir Ulric, asking maid and matron, young or old, the same question.  But never, from any two, did he receive a like answer.  Some told him that women best loved fine clothes; some that they loved rich living; some loved their children best; others desired most to be loved; and some loved best to be considered free from curiosity, which, since Eve, had been said to be a woman’s chief vice.  But among all, no answers were alike, and at each the knight’s heart sank in despair, and he seemed as if he followed and ignis fatuus which each day led him farther and farther from the truth.

One day, as he rode through a pleasant wood, the knight alighted and sat himself down under a tree to rest, and bewail his unhappy lot.  Sitting here, in a loud voice he accused his unfriendly stars that they had brought him into so sad a state.  While he spoke thus, he looked up and beheld an old woman, wrapped in a heavy mantle, standing beside him.  Sir Ulric thought he had never seen so hideous a hag as she who now stood gazing at him.  She was wrinkled and toothless, and bent with age.  One eye was shut, and in the other was a leer so horrible that he feared her some uncanny creature of the wood, and crossed himself as he looked on her.