But Ceres was too unhappy to know whether Phoebus smiled or looked angry.

“Phoebus” she said, “I am in great trouble and have come to you for help.  Can you tell me what has become of my little daughter Proserpina?”

“Proserpina, Proserpina did you call her?” answered Phoebus, trying to remember.  He had so many pleasant ideas in his head that he sometimes forgot what had happened no longer ago than yesterday.

“Ah yes!  I remember now—­a very lovely little girl.  I am happy to tell you that I did see Proserpina not many days ago.  You may be quite easy about her.  She is safe and in good hands.”

“Oh, where is my dear child?” cried Ceres, clasping her hands and flinging herself at his feet.

“Why,” replied Phoebus, “as the little girl was gathering flowers she was snatched up by King Pluto and carried off to his kingdom.  I have never been there myself, but I am told the royal palace is splendidly built.  Proserpina will have gold and silver and diamonds to play with, and I am sure even although there is no sunshine, she will have a very happy life.”

“Hush! do not say such a thing,” said Ceres.  “What has she got to love?  What are all these splendors if she has no one to care for?  I must have her back.  Good Phoebus, will you come with me to demand my daughter from this wicked Pluto?”

“Pray excuse me,” answered Phoebus, with a bow.  “I certainly wish you success, and I am sorry I am too busy to go with you.  Besides, King Pluto does not care much for me.  To tell you the truth, his dog with the three heads would never let me pass the gateway.  I always carry a handful of sunbeams with me, and those, you know, are not allowed within King Pluto’s kingdom.”

So the poor mother said good-by and hastened away along with Hecate.

Ceres had now found out what had become of her daughter, but she was not any happier than before.  Indeed, her trouble seemed worse than ever.  So long as Proserpina was above-ground there was some hope of getting her home again.  But now that the poor child was shut up behind King Pluto’s iron gates, with the three-headed Cerberus on guard beside them, there seemed no hope of her escape.

The dismal Hecate, who always looked on the darkest side of things, told Ceres she had better come back with her to the cave and spend the rest of her life in being miserable.  But Ceres answered that Hecate could go back if she wished, but that for her part she would wander about all the world looking for the entrance to King Pluto’s kingdom.  So Hecate hurried off alone to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little children with her dog’s face as she went.

Poor Mother Ceres!  It is sad to think of her all alone, holding up her never-dying torch and wandering up and down the wide, wide world.  So much did she suffer that in a very short time she began to look quite old.  She wandered about with her hair hanging down her back, and she looked so wild that people took her for some poor mad woman, and never thought that this was Mother Ceres who took care of every seed which was sown in the ground and of all the fruit and flowers.