At last he asked his queen: "Pray, who is this girl whose beauty shines as the gold image of the goddess? Whose daughter is she?"
The queen beat her forehead and cried: "Ah, how evil is my fate! Do you not know your own daughter?"
The king was struck with amazement. He said at last: "My tiny daughter has grown to be a woman."
"What else?" the queen said with a sigh. "Do you not know that twelve years have passed by?"
"But why did you not give her in marriage?" asked the king.
"You were away," the queen said. "And how could I find her a suitable husband?"
The king became vehement with excitement. "The first man I see to-morrow," he said, "when I come out of the palace shall marry her."
The princess went on waving her fan of peacock feathers, and the king finished his meal.
The next morning, as the king came out of his palace, he saw the son of a Brahman gathering sticks in the forest outside the palace gates. His age was about seven or eight.
The King said: "I will marry my daughter to him."