to be made of sunbeams.

His clothes were like light summer clouds, and the smile on his face
was so bright that Hecate held her hands before her eyes and muttered
that she wished he would wear a veil! Phoebus had a lyre in his hands
and was playing very sweet music, at the same time singing a merry
song.

As Ceres and her dismal companion came near, Phoebus smiled on them
so cheerfully that Hecate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss and
Hecate wished she was back in her dark cave.

But Ceres was too unhappy to know whether Phoebus smiled or looked
angry.

"Phoebus" she said, "I am in great trouble and have come to you
for help. Can you tell me what has become of my little daughter
Proserpina?"

"Proserpina, Proserpina did you call her?" answered Phoebus, trying to
remember. He had so many pleasant ideas in his head that he sometimes
forgot what had happened no longer ago than yesterday.

"Ah yes! I remember now--a very lovely little girl. I am happy to tell
you that I did see Proserpina not many days ago. You may be quite easy
about her. She is safe and in good hands."

"Oh, where is my dear child?" cried Ceres, clasping her hands and
flinging herself at his feet.