"The two characters pot and door," observed Pao-yü, "are not very easy to rhyme with."
But Shih Shu then got ready four lots of paper and pens, share and share alike, and one and all quietly set to work, racking their brains to perform their task, with the exception of Tai-yü, who either kept on rubbing the dryandra flowers, or looking at the autumnal weather, or bandying jokes as well with the servant-girls; while Ying Ch'un ordered a waiting-maid to light a "dream-sweet" incense stick.
This "dream-sweet" stick was, it must be explained, made only about three inches long and about the thickness of a lamp-wick, in order to easily burn down. Setting therefore her choice upon one of these as a limit of time, any one who failed to accomplish the allotted task, by the time the stick was consumed, had to pay a penalty.
Presently, T'an Ch'un was the first to think of some verses, and, taking up her pen, she wrote them down; and, after submitting them to several alterations, she handed them up to Ying Ch'un.
"Princess of Heng Wu," she then inquired of Pao-ch'ai, "have you finished?"
"As for finishing, I have finished," Pao-ch'ai rejoined; "but they're worth nothing."
Pao-yü paced up and down the verandah with his hands behind his back.
"Have you heard?" he thereupon said to Tai-yü, "they've all done!"
"Don't concern yourself about me!" Tai-yü returned for answer.
Pao-yü also perceived that Pao-ch'ai had already copied hers out. "Dreadful!" he exclaimed. "There only remains an inch of the stick and I've only just composed four lines. The incense stick is nearly burnt out," he continued, speaking to Tai-yü, "and what do you keep squatting on that damp ground like that for?"
But Tai-yü did not again worry her mind about what he said.