you may sit on it and be my little Queen, and I will sit on the
footstool."

"I do not care for golden palaces and thrones," sobbed Proserpina. "O
mother, mother! Take me back to my mother."

But King Pluto only shouted to his horses to go faster.

"You are very foolish, Proserpina," he said, rather crossly. "I am
doing all I can to make you happy, and I want very much to have a
merry little girl to run upstairs and downstairs in my palace and make
it brighter with her laughter. This is all I ask you to do for King
Pluto."

"Never" answered Proserpina, looking very miserable. "I shall never
laugh again, till you take me back to my mother's cottage."

And the horses galloped on, and the wind whistled past the chariot,
and Proserpina cried and cried till her poor little voice was almost
cried away, and nothing was left but a whisper.

The road now began to get very dull and gloomy. On each side were
black rocks and very thick trees and bushes that looked as if they
never got any sunshine. It got darker and darker, as if night was
coming, and still the black horses rushed on leaving the sunny home of
Mother Ceres far behind.

But the darker it grew, the happier King Pluto seemed to be.
Proserpina began to peep at him, she thought he might not be such a
wicked man after all.