The shepherds gathered around the basket and looked upon its contents.
“A feast fit for an emperor,” said one.
The little girl began to cry. “I’ll tell uncle if you don’t give me back my basket. He is waiting for me.”
“Who is your uncle, little girl?” was the next question.
“Uncle Cromillian,” said Lulie.
The four men started back, with frightened looks in their faces. “There, we’re only fooling,” said one of them. “See, we have not touched a thing. We were only in play, you know.”
“Just in fun,” said another. “Here, take this,” passing her a small coin.
“Uncle will not allow me to take money,” said Lulie.
“Who has the care of you, little girl?” asked one of the men.
“Uncle Cromillian takes care of mother and me and little brother, since father died. He is not my uncle, but he says I may call him so if I want to, and so I do because he takes care of us.”