“Is that enough?”
The woman clutched the gold piece which would amply have paid not only for the cherries in the basket but for the tree on which they grew and the plot of land on which the tree stood.
The artful one replied:
“I’m satisfied, if only to oblige you, little princess.”
“Well then, put some more cherries in my brother’s cap,” said Honey-Bee, “and you shall have another gold piece.”
This was done. The peasant woman went on her way meditating in what old stocking or under what mattress she should hide her two gold pieces.
And the two children followed the road eating the cherries and throwing the stones to the right and the left. George chose the cherries that hung two by two on one stem and made earrings for his little sister, and he laughed to see the lovely twin fruit dangle its vermillion beauty against her cheeks.
A pebble stopped their joyous progress. It had got into Honey-Bee’s little shoe and she began to limp. At every step she took, her golden curls bobbed against her cheek, and so limping she sat down on a bank by the roadside. Her brother knelt down and took off the satin shoe. He shook it and out dropped a little white pebble.
“Little brother,” she said as she looked at her feet, “the next time we go to the lake we’ll put on boots.”
The sun was already sinking against the radiant sky; a soft breeze caressed their cheeks and necks, and so, cheered and refreshed, the two little travellers proceeded on their way. To make walking easier they went hand in hand, and they laughed to see their moving shadows melt together before them. They sang: