he could do or give him in exchange for what she held so
dear.

"See!" she cried suddenly. "If it is a mantle you want, if you will give
mine back to me now, then when the winter comes I will return with my
sisters, and we will leave a bundle of our old cloaks on the hill-tops
for you to find and carry home with you. Indeed, I promise truly that
you shall have many of our cloaks in the winter time."

But Yama still answered nothing, and held the mantle closer.

Then Tsuki cried again: "The moon is waning fast, oh give me back my
mantle, and before I go I will dance for you as I would dance for the
Morning Star."

When Yama saw how earnestly she besought him, and that no entreaties of
his could persuade her to stay with him, he cast down the cloak before
her.

"Take it," he said, "but keep your promise, and dance for me as you would
dance for the Morning Star."

So Tsuki flung the soft, white, glistening, mantle round her, and on the
sandy shore beneath the pine trees, by the light of the waning moon, she
began to dance.

So light was she that she looked like a blown feather of foam as she
skimmed and flitted and swayed on the glistening sand, with her pale gold
hair glimmering, and her white feet twinkling in the dim light. Once or
twice she fell to the ground in a crumpled heap as if exhausted, but each
time, as though a puff of wind had caught her up, she rose again
fluttering and swiftly turning through the air. The dawn birds twittered
and piped soft music for her, and the sea murmured a humming, rushing
melody, and still she danced on. As she danced, there arose in the sky
above--slow, bright and clear--the Morning Star. Yama saw her twinkling
feet pass him as she drew nearer and nearer to the sea; and as the first
pink light began to show behind the pine trees she reached the surf.
Flinging her arms high above her head, she plunged in, with her snowy
mantle billowing round her. Long, long Yama gazed after her, but she had
disappeared utterly.

Slowly he turned from the sea. Slowly, very slowly he walked along the
shore towards his cottage. Surely he must have been dreaming! But lo!
close upon the shore were lying little white flakes that must have been
shed from her snowy mantle as she swirled through the air.

Yama stooped to pick them up, but even as he touched them they changed to
tear-drops in his hands.

As I have said before, my great-grandfather's nest was close to Yama's
cottage, and