take his food.

At last he asked his queen: "Pray, who is this girl whose beauty shines
as the gold image of the goddess? Whose daughter is she?"

The queen beat her forehead, and cried: "Ah, how evil is my fate! Do
you not know your own daughter?"

The king was struck with amazement. He said at last; "My tiny daughter
has grown to be a woman."

"What else?" the queen said with a sigh. "Do you not know that twelve
years have passed by?"

"But why did you not give her in marriage?" asked the king.

"You were away," the queen said. "And how could I find her a suitable
husband?"

The king became vehement with excitement. "The first man I see
to-morrow," he said, "when I come out of the palace shall marry her."

The princess went on waving her fan of peacock feathers, and the king
finished his meal.

The next morning, as the king came out of his palace, he saw the son of
a Brahman gathering sticks in the forest outside the palace gates. His
age was about seven or eight.

The king said: "I will marry my daughter to him."

Who can interfere with a king's command? At once the boy was called, and
the marriage garlands were exchanged between him and the princess.

At this point I came up close to my wise Grannie and asked her eagerly:
"What then?"

In the bottom of my heart there was a devout wish to substitute myself
for that fortunate wood-gatherer of seven years old. The night was
resonant with the patter of rain. The earthen lamp by my bedside was
burning low. My grandmother's voice droned on as she told the story. And
all these things served to create in a corner of my credulous heart the
belief that I had been gathering sticks in the dawn of some indefinite
time in the kingdom of some unknown king, and in a moment garlands had
been exchanged between me and the princess, beautiful as the Goddess of
Grace. She had a gold band on her hair and gold earrings in her ears.
She bad a necklace and bracelets of gold, and a golden waist-chain round
her waist, and a pair of golden anklets tinkled above her feet.

If my grandmother were an author how many explanations she would have to
offer for this little story! First of all, every one would ask why
the king remained twelve years in the forest? Secondly, why should the
king's daughter remain unmarried all that while? This would be regarded
as absurd.

Even if she could have got so far without a quarrel, still there would
have been a great hue and cry about the marr