thou take up this trade?"

Maya rose up from the leaves of the cool lily, and put aside the
veiling masses of her hair.

"I will go!" she whispered, flutelike, for hope beat a living pulse
in her brain.

So with scrip and hood she went out of the forest and begged of the
world's bounty such life as a beggar-maid may endure.

Long ago the King and Queen died in Larrierepensee, and there the
Princess Maddala reigns with a goodly Prince beside her, nor cares
for her lost sister; but songless, discrowned, desolate, Maya walks
the earth.

All ye whose fires burn bright on the hearth, whose dwellings ring
with child-laughter, or are hushed with love-whispers and the peace
of home, pity the Princess Maya! Give her food and shelter; charm
away the bitter flames that consume her life and soul; drop tears
and alms together into the little wasted hand that pleads with dumb
eloquence for its possessor; and even while ye pity and protect,
revere that fretted mark of the Crown that still consecrates to the
awful solitude of sorrow Maya, the Child of the Kingdom!

* * * * *