"Madam, how is it that roses do not fall from the lips of your child, and that precious stones do not appear when she walks?"
"My dear prince, my child is fatigued at the long journey she undertook to come to you. Have patience, and you will soon be satisfied."
During all this time, the poor Mirza, the real princess, wandered alone in the frightful desert in which she had been forsaken. She called for help, but no one came to her assistance. Her cries grew louder, and at last they attracted the attention of an old woman who was gathering herbs for the purpose of making medicine.
"What do you wish, my beautiful child?" inquired the old woman.
"Good mother, what are you doing here?" cried the princess.
"I am looking for herbs that are necessary to make my medicine."
"You can do better than that," said the princess. "Pick up the pearls that you find at my feet, and go into the city and sell them."
The old woman obeyed, and returned with an apron full of gold, saying:
"My child, what shall I do with this fortune?"