songs that rose from the other boats were
in a strange language, which she could
not understand; and noticing the frequent
recurrence of the word "Kysika," she
asked her friend what it meant.

"That is my name," she said; "and all
their songs are in honour of my appearance."

Presently a voice was heard, crying,
"Come home, children, it is growing late."

Elsie was again somewhat terrified, but
Kysika told her there was no cause for
alarm, and taking the flower-leaf from the
little basket, dipped it into the water,
which at once contracted into two small
drops, leaving them in the middle of
the garden, standing near the palace as
before. The boat was again a shell, and
the oars were fish-bones; and when these
had been put into the basket, the children
walked gently home.

It was already supper-time, and round a
splendidly furnished table in a spacious
hall were seated four-and-twenty ladies all
gorgeously dressed: the mistress of the
feast being Kysika's mamma, who grandly
occupied a large golden chair. The dishes
served, thirteen in number, were of gold
and silver, and Elsie remarked that while
the contents of the others were freely
consumed, one particular dish was left
covered, and was eventually taken away
just as it had been brought in. But, though
a daughter of Eve, she did not allow
curiosity to spoil her appetite, and she feasted
on the dainties which were more delicious
than anything she had ever tasted in her
life. Of what did they consist? Were
they fish, flesh, fowl, pastry, confectionery?
Elsie did not know or care; although
humbly born, she had a refined taste, and
was not like those vulgar wretches, who
spoil your dinner at the Palais Royal
by bawling out that they like to know
what things are made of. All the dishes
were admirable, yet all different from each
other; and so thoroughly was her palate
gratified, that she would not even venture
to surmise that the uncovered dish might
possibly be nicer than the rest.

The ladies talked to each other in a very
low voice, and even if they had spoken
louder, Elsie would not have been edified;
for, like the little boatmen, they used an
unknown language. Before the supper was
removed, the mistress whispered a few
words to a servant, who stood behind her
chair, and who, at once running out, brought
back a little old man, whose beard, longer
than he was tall, more than reached the
ground. This venerable person was
evidently inferior in rank to the others: for
he made a very humble bow, and entered
no further than the threshold of the door.

"Just look at that child," said the lady
of the house, pointing to Elsie; "she is
only a peasant's daughter, but it's my
intention to adopt her. You'll have the
goodness to make an exact copy at once, so that
we may send it to the village in her stead
early to-morrow morning."

The old man surveyed Elsie from head
to foot with eyes so sharp that they seemed
to pierce her through; and when he had
thus taken her measure, he made another
low bow to the lady, and left the room.
After the supper things had been removed,
the stately lady called Elsie to her and
said:

"My dear, I have now made up my
mind. You shall remain as a companion
to Kysika, instead of returning home; that
is, if you like it."

"Like it, my lady!" exclaimed Elsie.
"O, I do thank you so very much!"

Falling on her knees, she kissed the
hands and feet of her benefactress, to
express gratitude for her deliverance from
domestic misery; but the kind lady soon
raised her from the ground, patted her
head and her ruddy wet cheeks, and told
her that if she were a good girl she should
be properly taken care of, and educated till
she had become a tall woman, and able to
take care of herself. Kysika's lady teachers
were to be her teachers likewise, and she
was to learn every sort of accomplishment,
the finest of fine needlework included.

After a while the old man returned,
carrying on his shoulders a tray filled with
loam, and holding in his left hand a small
covered basket. Setting these articles on
the ground, he went briskly to work, and
made a small image of human form, in the
hollow stomach of which he placed three
pickled anchovies, and a piece of bread.
Then he made a hole in the breast of the
figure, and this served as a door for the
admission of a black worm, at least a yard
long, which he took out of the basket, and
which by its wriggling and struggling
showed that it anticipated its future abode
with anything but delight. Wriggling
and struggling were, however, useless; the
worm was obliged to follow the prescribed
direction, and the aperture being duly
closed, the image was carefully inspected
by the lady.

"All we want now, is a drop of our young
friend's blood," said the old man. And, as