"On the tomb of the elder was a pretty green insect, producing sounds like those made by a girl weaving,--'Ji-i-i-i, chon-chon! Ji-i-i-i, chon-chon!' This was the first weaver-insect. On the tomb of the younger sister was an insect which kept crying out,--'Tsuzuré--sasé, sasé! tsuzuré--sasé sasé, sasé!' ('Torn clothes--patch up, patch up! Torn clothes--patch up, patch up, patch up!') This was the first kirigirisu.
"Since that time these same little insects cry to every Japanese mother and daughter to work well before the cold winter days, to do all the weaving and sewing and mending and have the winter clothing ready.
"We used to believe that the spirits of the two girls took these shapes," she ended.
In the silence that followed the story, Tei's little insect sang, "Ji-i-i, chon-chon! Ji-i-i, chon-chon!" and Umé's answered, "Tsuzuré, sasé, sasé! Tsuzuré, sasé, sasé!"
The night was creeping over the garden. The sound of the temple bells rang through the air, and little flashes of light twinkled in unexpected places.
The children gathered closer to the mother and begged for one more story before bed-time.
"Did you ever hear of Princess Splendor?" she asked.
The children never had heard the story, and their mother told it to them.
"She was a beautiful little moon-child who came down to the world hundreds of years ago. There was but one way for her to come, and that was on a silver moonbeam.
"While she sat on a pine branch resting from her journey, a wood-cutter found her and took her to his home, where she stayed for many years.