relate daily one of those tales which old women are wont to tell for
the amusement of the little ones. And you will come regularly to
this spot; where, after a good repast, you shall begin to tell stories,
so as to pass life pleasantly--and sorrow to him that dies!"

At these words, all bowed assent to the commands of Taddeo; and
the tables being meanwhile set out and feast spread, they sat down
to eat. And when they had done eating, the Prince took the paper
and calling on each in turn, by name, the stories that follow were
told, in due order.



II
THE MYRTLE

There lived in the village of Miano a man and his wife, who had
no children whatever, and they longed with the greatest eagerness
to have an heir. The woman, above all, was for ever saying, "O
heavens! if I might but have a little baby--I should not care, were it
even a sprig of a myrtle." And she repeated this song so often, and
so wearied Heaven with these words, that at last her wish was
granted; and at the end of nine months, instead of a little boy or
girl, she placed in the hands of the nurse a fine sprig of myrtle.
This she planted with great delight in a pot, ornamented with ever
so many beautiful figures, and set it in the window, tending it
morning and evening with more diligence than the gardener does a
bed of cabbages from which he reckons to pay the rent of his
garden.