“What matter?” exclaimed Jasmine. “Never, never shall I wish to return my purse.”
“You are determined?” asked the strange saleswoman.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“Hold out your arms, then.”
Eagerly Jasmine stretched out her arms.
The smiling woman touched her on both her funny-bones, drew forth her Sense of Humour, laid it away in a box, on which she wrote Jasmine’s name, and the date, and then placed it on a shelf between two other boxes.
“Now it is mine, until redeemed by the return of a purse, fellow to this that I give thee,” said the woman, handing the tasselled red bag to Jasmine. “And while it is in my careful keeping, this despised sense of yours will grow and grow. Farewell, Jasmine. Leave me now and go forth into a bleak world.”
Clasping the marvellous purse to her heart, Jasmine fled from the house and hastened through the deep, dark forest till she reached the city. At once she went to the great jewel-merchants, against whose windows she had often pressed her face in wistful longing.
“I want the biggest pearl necklace you have got,” she cried, breathlessly bursting into the gorgeous showroom.
“I’m afraid goods of such value can only be supplied in exchange for ready money,” said the merchant with an uncivil smile.