"
"I don't care for such roses as this!" cried Marygold, tossing it
contemptuously away. "It has no smell, and the hard petals prick my
nose!"
The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with her grief for
the blighted roses that she did not even notice the wonderful
transmutation of her china bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for
Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer
figures, and strange trees and houses, that were painted on the
circumference of the bowl; and these ornaments were now entirely lost in
the yellow hue of the metal.
Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, and, as a matter of
course, the Coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have been when he took it
up, was gold when he set it down. He thought to himself, that it was
rather an extravagant style of splendour, in a king of his simple
habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled with
the difficulty of keeping his treasures safe. The cupboard and the
kitchen would no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so
valuable as golden bowls and coffee-pots.
Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, and,
sipping it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his lips
touched the liquid, it became molten gold, and, the next moment,
hardened into a lump!
"Ha!" exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137