Illustration by Peter Boston for L.M. Boston's The Children of Green Knowe.
Out into the moonlight came St. Christopher himself, huge and gentle with his head among the stars, taking the stone Child on his shoulder to Midnight Mass. As they went past, Orlando lifted his chin and gave a little cry, and from the stables came a quiet whinny. All the birds in the spruce tree woke up and flew out of the window, circling round St. Christopher with excited calls. The stone giant strode across the lawns with his bare feet and soon came to the river. At the edge there was thin, loose ice that shivered like a windowpane as he stepped in. The water rushed round his legs and the reflection of the moon was torn to wet ribbons. The stream crept up to his waist and, as he still went on, to his armpits. When it looked as if he could go no farther Linnet heard a child’s voice singing gaily. The sound was torn and scattered by the wind as the moon’s reflection had been by the water, but she recognized the song as it came in snatches.
Tomorrow shall be my dancing day I would my true love did so chance To see the legend of my play To call my true love to the dance, Sing O my love, O my love, my love, my love, This have I done for my true love.
