"Never mind, tell us what in your line is the most perfect and beautiful thing you know."
"A jasmine blossom," replied the perfumer, "because its delicate odor cannot be imitated no matter what combination of oils or extracts we make. I cannot say that of any other flower in the world."
The children could have answered that question themselves if they had only thought quickly enough. They were quite familiar with the dainty little white flowers and tender vine of the jasmine as well as its sweet smell, because it grew wild in their country.
While the perfumer was talking, the Golden Hearted picked up a shining pebble near his feet.
"Now, children," he said, "in this small rough stone I find something perfect and beautiful. It is an opal, the only one of the precious gems I do not know how to counterfeit. Join hands, as many of you as can, and dance around me while I sing you a song about the birth of the opal."
One of the wise men gave him a Sacred Tunkel, a kind of guitar which he brought from the Temple of the Sun, and this was what he sang:
The Birth of the Opal
A dew drop came with a spark of flame
He had caught from the sun's last rays
To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest