But very soon he would steal secretly back by some other way to spring upon Martin unawares and roll him over and over on the ground, growling as if angry, and making believe to worry him with his great white teeth, although never really hurting him in the least.

He played with Martin just as a cat plays with its kitten when it pretends to punish it.
Whenever Martin began to show the least sign of weariness the Lady of the Hills would call him to her.

Then, lying back among the ferns, she would unbind her long silky tresses to let him play with them, for this was always a delight to him.

Then she would gather her hair up again and dress it with yellow flowers and glossy dark green leaves to make herself look more lovely than ever.

At other times, taking him on her shoulders, she would bound nimbly as a wild goat up the steepest places, springing from crag to crag, and dancing gaily along the narrow ledges of rock, where it made him dizzy to look down.
Then when the sun was near setting, when long shadows from rocks and trees began to creep over the mountain, and he had eaten the fruits and honey and other wild delicacies she provided, she would make him lie on her bosom.