"But, then, there is your helmet," said her companion, "you would look very queer here in a helmet, and in the rest of your armour. I have seen some of the pilgrims passing through Achshaph wearing full armour," she added, laughing, "and they looked quite ridiculous. In fact, the people of Achshaph were so amused at them that, I assure you, they did not have at all a happy time of it. They looked neither to the right nor to the left, even when the most lovely music was played on purpose to attract them. They would not pluck a single apple from the trees."
"Is there beautiful music?" asked Iddo, her eyes brightening.
"Yes, indeed, music and dancing and playing of all sorts. And as you are so very pretty, my dear, you will get the best of everything, only you know you really must not show all that armour."
"I'll tuck my sword under my dress," said Iddo, now quite bent on seeing more of Achshaph, "and I'll hide my helmet and the rest of my armour in this long grass. There will be no difficulty in finding them again, will there?"
"No difficulty whatever," said Madam Vanity, for that was her name, "and it is the only way if you want to enjoy Achshaph. They must never guess that you are a pilgrim to the Radiant City."
Iddo looked grave for a moment, and then stood listening.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
"Hear what, my dear? I only heard the breeze in the trees."
"I thought I heard my mother's voice," said Iddo, with a little gasp, then she added, "I don't think I ought to come, and I am sure that mother would not like me to be afraid of letting people know that I am a pilgrim."
"You will be with her again very soon, and it is only just for an hour that you will play at being something else," and all the while Madam Vanity was speaking, she was making a lovely wreath for the girl's hair, and at her last words she fastened it among her tresses, and bade her look at herself once more.