It was now six months since she had been carried off from her home, and not a mouthful had she eaten, not even when the cook had made all kinds of sweet things and had ordered all the dainties which children usually like best.

Proserpina was naturally a bright, merry little girl, and all this time she was not so unhappy as you may have thought.

In the big palace were a thousand rooms, and each was full of wonderful and beautiful things.  It is true there was never any sunshine in these rooms, and Proserpina used to fancy that the shadowy light which came from the jeweled lamps was alive:  it seemed to float before her as she walked between the golden pillars, and to close softly behind her in the echo of her footsteps.

And Proserpina knew that all the glitter of these precious stones was not worth a single sunbeam, nor could the rubies and emeralds which she played with ever be as dear to her as the daisies and buttercups she had gathered among the soft green grass.

King Pluto felt how much happier his palace was since Proserpina came, and so did all his servants.  They loved to hear her childish voice laughing as she ran from room to room, and they felt less old and tired when they saw again how glad little children can be.

“My own little Proserpina,” King Pluto used to say, “I wish you would like me a little better.  Although I look rather a sad man, I am really fond of children, and if you would stay here with me always, it would make me happier than having hundreds of palaces like this.”

“Ah,” said Proserpina, “you should have tried to make me like you first before carrying me off, and now the best thing you can do is to let me go again; then I might remember you sometimes and think that you were as kind as you knew how to be.  Perhaps I might come back to pay you a visit one day.”

“No, no,” answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile, “I will not trust you for that.  You are too fond of living in the sunshine and gathering flowers.  What an idle, childish thing to do!  Do you not think that these diamonds which I have had dug out of the mine for you are far prettier than violets?”

“No, oh no! not half so pretty,” said Proserpina, snatching them from Pluto’s hand, and flinging them to the other end of the room.  “O my sweet purple violets, shall I ever see you again?” and she began to cry bitterly.

But like most children, she soon stopped crying, and in a short time she was running up and down the rooms as when she had played on the sands with the sea-children.  And King Pluto, sad and lonely, watched her and wished that he too was a child, and when Proserpina turned and saw the great King standing alone in his splendid hall, so grand and so lonely, with no one to love him, she felt sorry for him.  She ran back and for the first time in all those six months she put her small hand in his.  “I love you a little,” she whispered, looking up into his face.