For six cold nights Beth made a bed inside the fairy ring and wept for the return of her lost love.
As the moon rose on the fourth night, whispering voices bade her go and offered her fine things. On the fifth Peter was returned, but he would not leave the circle and when he spoke, his eyes were far away.
On the last night, Beth sang of their home and child and smiling, Peter took her hand. Alas, scarce three steps beyond the stones, he crumpled into leaves which a spiteful wind blew far and wide.