Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard. Eleanor Farjeon
weeping in her Tower. Around her, with their backs to her, stand six maids in a ring, with joined hands. They are in green dresses. The Wandering Singer approaches them with his lute.)
THE WANDERING SINGER
Lady, lady, my spring-green lady,
May I come into your orchard, lady?
For the leaf is now on the apple-bough
And the sun is high and the lawn is shady,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady!
O my spring-green lady!
THE LADIES
You may not come into our orchard, singer,
Because we must guard the Emperor's Daughter
Who hides in her hair at the windows there
With her thoughts a thousand leagues over the water,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
THE WANDERING SINGER
Lady, lady, my spring-green lady,
But will you not hear an Alba, lady?
I'll play for you now neath the apple-bough
And you shall dance on the lawn so shady,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady,
O my spring-green lady!
THE LADIES
O if you play us an Alba, singer,
How can that harm the Emperor's Daughter?
No word would she say though we danced all day,
With her thoughts a thousand leagues over the water,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
THE WANDERING SINGER
But if I play you an Alba, lady,
Get me a boon from the Emperor's Daughter—
The flower from her hair for my heart to wear
Though hers be a thousand leagues over the water,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady,
O my spring-green lady!
THE LADIES
(They give him the flower from the hair of the Emperor's Daughter, and sing—)
Now you may play us an Alba, singer,
A dance of dawn for a spring-green lady,
For the leaf is now on the apple-bough,
And the sun is high and the lawn is shady,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
The Wandering Singer plays on his lute, and The Ladies break their ranks and dance. The Singer steals up behind The Emperor's Daughter, who uncovers her face and sings—)
THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER
Mother, mother, my fair dead mother,
They have stolen the flower from your weeping daughter!
THE WANDERING SINGER
O dry your eyes, you shall have this other
When yours is a thousand leagues over the water,
Daughter, daughter,
My sweet daughter!
Love is not far, my daughter!
The Singer then drops a second flower into the lap of the child in the middle, and goes away, and this ends the first part of the game. The Emperor's Daughter is not yet released, for the key of her tower is understood to be still in the keeping of the dancing children. Very likely it is bed-time by this, and mothers are calling from windows and gates, and the children must run home to their warm bread-and-milk and their cool sheets. But if time is still to spare, the second part of the game is played like this. The dancers once more encircle their weeping comrade, and now they are gowned in white and pink. They will indicate these changes perhaps by colored ribbons, or by any flower in its season, or by imagining themselves first in green and then in rose, which is really the best way of all. Well then—
(The Ladies, in gowns of white and rose-color, stand around The Emperor's Daughter, weeping in her Tower. To them once more comes The Wandering Singer with his lute.)
THE WANDERING SINGER
Lady, lady, my rose-white lady,
May I come into your orchard, lady?
For the blossom's now on the apple-bough
And the stars are near and the lawn is shady,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady,
O my rose-white lady!
THE LADIES
You may not come into our orchard, singer,
Lest you bear a word to the Emperor's Daughter
From one who was sent to banishment
Away a thousand leagues over the water,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
THE WANDERING SINGER
Lady, lady, my rose-white lady,
But will you not hear a Roundel, lady?
I'll play for you now neath the apple-bough
And you shall trip on the lawn so shady,
Lady, lady,
My fair lady,
O my rose-white lady!
THE LADIES
O if you play us a Roundel, singer,
How can that harm the Emperor's Daughter?
She would not speak though we danced a week,
With her thoughts a thousand leagues over the water,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
THE WANDERING SINGER
But if I play you a Roundel, lady,
Get me a gift from the Emperor's Daughter—
Her finger-ring for my finger bring
Though she's pledged a thousand leagues over the water,
Lady, lady
My fair lady,
O my rose-white lady!
THE LADIES
(They give him the ring from the finger of The Emperor's Daughter, and sing—)
Now you may play us a Roundel, singer,
A sunset-dance for a rose-white lady,
For the blossom's now on the apple-bough,
And the stars are near and the lawn is shady,
Singer, singer,
Wandering singer,
O my honey-sweet singer!
As before, The Singer plays and The Ladies dance; and through the broken circle The Singer comes behind The Emperor's Daughter, who uncovers her face to sing—)
THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER
Mother, mother, my fair dead mother,
They've stolen