“I am not,” said he. “I am none the worse.”
“You are a good man,” said she; “if you stand two other tumbles I will never throw you again.”
When he was rested, he went riding again. She lifted her rump again, and jerked him into the air. She came about him to see if he was killed. “I believe you are killed.”
“I am none the worse,” said he.
“If you stand one more tumble, I will never throw you again.”
He rested himself. He went riding again. She asked him if he was ready. He said he was. She flung him again and tossed him into the air. He fell down on the back of his head. She looked about to see if he was alive. “Now,” said she, “I will never throw you again. Now when you are rested, and you run to your riding, do not pull the bridle on my head. I know where you are going. I will bring you to the place you are drawing to.”
She stretched herself to her full speed and red
running;
So that she took the hill at a leap, the glen at a
standing jump:
So that she overtook the wind that was before her,
And the wind behind did not overtake her:
Till the cups of her two knees were rubbing her two
jaws bare:
So greatly she was running,
till she came to the door of the king.
