Sianekh, the story-teller, slipped from the sleeve of her loose white mantle a small ebony wand tipped with electrum. Without preamble she commenced a tale of King Senefru’s days, a tale of the epoch of those gods of old, the pyramid-builders. In her monotonous singsong she told how the good king, tired with the cares of state and oppressed by the great heat of noonday, sought a cool spot in which to rest, and found it not. How his son flew upstream in the fleetest royal barge in search of a famous magician. How he found him fishing in the Nile without a hook, and finally persuaded him to come to his father’s court. She told of the wonders performed there by the aged seer. Of wine turned to honey. Of bees which went into a little hive only to emerge as brilliantly colored birds resembling those of distant Punt. Of the goose’s head which he restored to its body so that it sprang once more to its feet and rushed cackling and hissing from their midst. Finally she told of Senefru’s pleasure-barge, of the little maidens who rowed it and of one of their number who dropped her pendant into the water, even as had Thutu, and of the magician of old who parted the waters and descended dryshod to the finding of the pendant. “But see, O Queen. Enough of the doings of the ancients. There is the tablet to the faithful Nakht, a hero of our own day and generation.” Sianekh pointed to a tall shaft which rose high above the bank. “That tall shaft marks the stake where Nakht met his death. The story goes that Isis, only daughter of the Vizier Rames, made an appointment to meet the son of Nakht at this spot. Yonder inlet was filled to overflowing with the waters of the inundation. But Nakht, son of Nakht, rather than abandon his tryst, let the swirling waters of the inundation flow over his devoted head. Isis threw herself into the waters with him. To this date lovers hang garlands about the shaft and breathe a prayer to Hathor for sons and daughters like Nakht and Isis.” As Sianekh rose to her feet the Queen thanked her and presented her with a pair of gold earrings which she unfastened from her own ears, an unheard of honor, and one which even the story-teller appreciated. The Eunuchs showed their approbation by loud cries of affected astonishment, for the stories were not new to them. But the little maidens, who had rested on their oars during the recital, showed their keen delight in the tales by frequent “oh’s” and “ah’s” of astonishment and approval scattered throughout the telling. On the barge the hours slipped by unnoted. To Yakab the Chancellor, who now anxiously awaited the return of the Queen, each minute seemed an hour. Yakab had hurried off to acquaint the Queen of Bhanar’s plight, and to beg her to come to the assistance of one of her unfortunate country-women.