IX.
Then the dreaded news came, "It is done!
A dress as golden as the noon-day sun!"
"Nay! It cannot be," gasped Luralai,
"Three weeks hath not even passed us by!
How could such impossible a feat
Be already finished and complete?"
But, alas for Lura, it was true.
Now the gown was brought for her to view:
Such a dress as ne'er before was made,
Cut from yards of shining gold brocade,
Stitched exquisitely, and overspread
With the finest lace of golden thread.
Every hem with golden cord was strung,
Golden beads from golden trimming hung,
And a cloak of supple silk and braid
Billowed in an endless gold cascade.
'Twas so rich and wondrous to behold
That the very room seemed lit with gold!
In the King came, for the dress to see:
"Is it not as thou desired?" asked he,
"Like the very rays the sun doth cast?"
Lura hung her head and wept, aghast.
"Yes," the poor girl whispered, "it is so.
Would that it were rags and tatters, though."
To her chamber Lura took the gown,
There she crushed and folded it quite down
Til the garment was condensed so well
She could fit it in a walnut shell.
In a silver box she placed the nut
With a silver key she locked it shut.
Then she murmured to herself, "I pray
It will never see the light of day."