“The water has risen, brother,
    And wetted my ankle, brother,
    But still the lota in my hand
    Will not sink below the surface.”

But the water rose to her knees and the pot would not fill, and she sang:—­

    “The water has risen, brother,
    And wetted my knees, brother,
    But still the lota in my hand
    Will not sink below the surface.”

Then the water rose to her waist and the pot would not fill, and she sang:—­

    “The water has risen, brother,
    And wetted my waist, brother,
    But still the lota in my hand
    Will not sink below the surface.”

Then the water reached her neck and the pot would not fill; and she sang:—­

    The water has risen, brother,
    And wetted my neck, brother,
    But still the lota in my hand
    Will not sink below the surface.”

At last it flowed over her head and the water-pot was filled, but the girl was drowned.  The tank however remained brimful of sparkling water.

Now the unhappy girl had been betrothed and her wedding day was just at hand.  On the day fixed the marriage broker came to announce the approach of the bridegroom; who shortly afterwards arrived at the outskirts of the village in his palki.  The seven brothers met him, and the usual dancing began.

The bridegroom’s party however wished to know why the bride did not appear.  The brothers put them off with various excuses, saying that the girl had gone with her friends to gather firewood or to the river to draw water.  At last the bridegroom’s party got tired of waiting and turned to go home in great wrath at the way in which they had been treated.  On their way they passed by the tank in which the girl had been sacrificed and, growing in the middle of it, they saw a most beautiful flower.  The bridegroom at once determined to possess this, and he told his drummers to pick it for him; but whenever one of them tried to pick it, the flower moved out of his reach and a voice came from the flower saying:—­

    “Take the flower, drummer,
    But the branch you must not break.”

and when they told him what the flower sang the bridegroom said that he would try and pick it himself; no sooner had he reached the bank than the flower of its own accord floated towards him and he pulled it up by the roots and took it with him into the palki.  After they had gone a little way the palki bearers felt the palki strangely heavy:  and when they looked in they found the bride also sitting in it, dressed in yellow garments; for the flower was really the girl who had been drowned.

So they joyfully took the happy couple with drumming and music to the bridegroom’s house.

In a short time misfortune befel the seven brothers; they fell into the deepest poverty and were forced to earn what they could by selling leaves and sticks which they gathered in the jungle.  As they went about selling these, they one day came to the village where their sister was living and as they cried their wares through the streets they were told to go to the house where the marriage had taken place.  They went there, and as they were selling their leaf plates their sister saw and recognised them; they had only ragged loincloths on, and their skins were black and cracked like a crocodile’s.