VIII.
"In a week we wed!" the King declared.
"Nay," said Lura, "I'm not yet prepared:
First I need a trousseau - all brides do.
'Til I have one, I can't marry you!"
"Aye, 'tis fair," her father did concede,
"Name the articles that thou dost need."
Hoping for to set too hard a task
Lura answered, "Hearken what I ask:
Ere I wed, I fain wouldst have three dresses
Such as no one in this world possesses:
One, as golden as the sun at noon,
One, as silver as a winter moon,
Lastly I shall need a bridal gown
Sparkling like a star from Heaven's crown.
Bring me three such dresses," Lura said,
"Only then will I agree to wed."
Thus she sought to stall the wedding date
And impending doom prevaricate.
"Fetch the finest stitchers!" cried the King,
"Spinners, weavers, to the castle bring!
Every needle-woman rouse to hand,
Summon every tailor in the land!
None shall idle rest - not one shall tarry -
By this winter's end I mean to marry!"
So the finest dress-makers were brought
In great numbers to the royal court.
Day and night a thousand needles flashed,
Spinning wheels whirred and great looms crashed:
Night and day they stitched and they did sew,
For to finish Luralai's trousseau.
Meanwhile, in her room, the princess prayed
That her dresses never would be made.