At last it did come, and a golden sun shone over the harvest fields, and she and Rico went up under the fir-trees, where the sparkling lake lay spread out at their feet; and the girl's heart was so overflowing¹ with happiness, that she had to dance about and shout aloud before she seated herself on the moss², on the very edge of the slope. There she could see every thing round about,—the sunny heights and the lake, and, stretched over all, the blue heavens.

 

Suddenly she called out, "Come now, Rico; we will sing,—sing for ever so long."

 

So the lad seated himself by Stineli's side, and placed his fiddle³ in position,—for he had, of course, brought that too,—and began to play, and the children sang,—

 

"Little lambkins, come down

From the bright, sunny height,"

 

until they had sung all the verses; but Stineli had not had half enough.

 

"We will sing more," she said, and went on,—

 

"Little lambkins, above

On the bright, pleasant hill,

The sunlight is sparkling,

The winds are not still."

 

And then Rico sang the verse and was pleased and said, "Sing some more."

 

Stineli was quite excited: thought a bit, and looked up, then down, and sang again,—

 

"And the lambkins, and the lambkins,

And the heavens so blue;

And red and white flowers,

And the green grasses, too."

 

Then Rico fiddled⁴ and sung the verse with her, and said again, "Some more."

 

Stineli laughed, and, glancing at Rico, sang,—

 

"And a sad little boy,

And a very gay maid;

And a lake like another,

That from water is made."

 

Laughing and singing, Stineli went on,—

 

"And the lambkins, and the lambkins,

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