In one hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb.
"You slept like a log," he cried happily.

"It can't be that you had very bad dreams, little wife ?" "I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded up into her face.
She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon.

Some of the slices were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous mantle.

He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had brought from the lake.

From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad.
Her eyes sparkled.