led to the feet of the witch, who stooped
down and patted their heads, and gave each one some milk in a red
earthen basin. When they had all finished, she whistled again, and
bade two or three coil themselves round her arms and neck, while she
turned one into a cane and another into a whip. Then she took a
stick, and on the river bank changed it into a raft, and seating
herself comfortably, she pushed off into the centre of the stream.

All that day she floated, and all the next night, and towards sunset
the following evening she found herself close to Zoulvisia's garden,
just at the moment that the king, on the horse of flame, was returning
from hunting.

'Who are you?' he asked in surprise; for old women travelling on rafts
were not common in that country. 'Who are you, and why have you come
here?'

'I am a poor pilgrim, my son,' answered she, 'and having missed the
caravan, I have wandered foodless for many days through the desert,
till at length I reached the river. There I found this tiny raft, and
to it I committed myself, not knowing if I should live or die. But
since you have found me, give me, I pray you, bread to eat, and let me
lie this night by the dog who guards your door!'

This piteous tale touched the heart of the young man, and he promised
that he would bring her food, and that she should pass the night in
his palace.

'But mount behind me, good woman,' cried he, 'for you have walked far,
and it is still a long way to the palace.' And as he spoke he bent
down to help her, but the horse swerved on one side.

And so it happened twice and thrice, and the old witch guessed the
reason, though the king did not.

'I fear to fall off,' said she; 'but as your kind heart pities my
sorrows, ride slowly, and lame as I am, I think I can manage to keep
up.'

At the door he bade the witch to rest herself, and he would fetch her
all she needed. But Zoulvisia his wife grew pale when she heard whom
he had brought, and besought him to feed the old woman and send her
away, as she would cause mischief to befall them.

The king laughed at her fears, and answered lightly:

'Why, one would think she was a witch to hear you talk! And even if
she were, what harm could she do to us?' And calling to the maidens he
bade them carry her food, and to let her sleep in their chamber.

Now the old woman was very cunning, and kept the maidens awake half
the night with all kinds of strange stories. Indeed, the next morning,