It was on May Day, and I rode forth into the forest and distanced pursuit, and joined my cousin Culverhouse, as we had vowed to do.

We thought then of naught but the joy of a day together in the forest, and had not dreamed of such a matter as wedlock.

But then to the church porch came one calling himself a priest.

They say he comes every year, and weds all who will come to him.

And many did.