"No. We will stay here. We will spend the time well in singing lay songs,
but we will come to the church for matins in order to begin the day with
God."

"There will be a mass for the welfare of the gracious prince and the
gracious princess," said the monk.

"The prince, my husband, will not come for four or five days."

"The Lord God will be able to grant happiness even from afar, and in the
meanwhile let us poor monks at least bring some wine from the monastery."

"We will gladly repay," said the princess.

When the monk went out, she called:

"Hej, Danusia! Danusia! Mount the bench and make our hearts merry with
the same song you sang in Zator."

Having heard this, the courtiers put a bench in the centre of the room.
The _rybalts_ sat on the ends, and between them stood that young girl who
had carried behind the princess the lute ornamented with brass nails. On
her head she had a small garland, her hair falling on her shoulders, and
she wore a blue dress and red shoes with long points. On the bench she
looked like a child, but at the same time, a beautiful child, like some
figure from a church. It was evident that she was not singing for the
first time before the princess, because she was not embarrassed.

"Sing, Danusia, sing!" the young court girls shouted.