So the king’s page carried the sack of mullein spikes to the old woman’s cottage and she gave him a large lump of tallow. On his way back he leaped across the ditch again and filled his arms with tall mullein spikes. He hurried back to the cave, melted the tallow, and dipped the weeds into the liquid fat.
When the king and his party returned that evening to the cave, two tall candles were standing on the rude throne.
“See,” cried the king’s page, “we have a fresh supply of candles.”
“Tell us where you got them,” said the surprised king.
“They are made from spikes of the mullein weed,” explained the king’s page. Then he told his majesty about the afternoon’s adventure.
“The mullein weed shall have a new name,” declared the king. “It shall be called the King’s Candles.”
A few days later the king called his followers around his throne seat and said, “A message has come to me declaring that the usurper has been driven out of my country. Tomorrow we’ll hold a feast in the palace, and the table shall be lighted by ‘King’s Candles. ’”
Every year since that far-off time when the reigning king holds an autumn festival, the banquet table is lighted with mullein spikes dipped in tallow, and they are called the “King’s Candles.”
“The mullein’s yellow candles burn Over the heads of dry, sweet fern.”