'No, master, it is not raining,' answered the slave.
'Then climb up the tree and see what it is,' and the slave climbed up, and came back and told his master that a beautiful girl was sitting up there, and that it must have been her tears which had fallen on the face of the king's son.
'Why was she crying?' inquired the prince.
'I cannot tell—I did not dare to ask her; but perhaps she would tell you.' And the master, greatly wondering, climbed up the tree.
'What is the matter with you?' said he gently, and, as she only sobbed louder, he continued:
'Are you a woman, or a spirit of the woods?'
'I am a woman,' she answered slowly, wiping her eyes with a leaf of the creeper that hung about her.
'Then why do you cry?' he persisted.
'I have many things to cry for,' she replied, 'more than you could ever guess.'
'Come home with me,' said the prince; 'it is not very far. Come home to my father and mother. I am a king's son.'