Then Bidasari wished To buy the fan, and sent a maid to ask Her parents for the gold. The merchant said, "Go see what thing it is, and weigh the gold For her." The mother feared a trap or trick. "Oh, do not buy the fan, my child," she said; "I'll buy a finer one for thee. Send this Away." But when her father saw her tears Of disappointment, "It is thine," he said. "What is the price? I'd buy it though it cost Thy weight in gold, my darling. Tell me now, _Dyangs_." Tjendra Melinee answered him, "Are two timbangs too much?" "I'm very poor," He said; "but I will buy it for the child." The gold was weighed. The four _dyangs_ straightway Departed, hurried to the Queen and said: "At last we have discovered, O our Queen, What thou hast sought. 'Tis in a near _campong_ Of merchants very rich and great. Oh, there We found a princess fairer than the day; More like an angel than a mortal maid. No woman in this land compares with her. Her name is Bidasari. And the King Would surely marry her if once they met, For soon she will be ready for a spouse; Her innocence is charming. Like a cloud The merchant and his wife keep watchful guard. Her hair is curly, like a flower full blown. Her brow is like the moon but one day old. She's like a ring in Peylou made. She would Outshine thy beauty, shouldst thou bring her here." The princess heard and quickly said: "I feel My hatred rise. Oh, may I never see Her face! To hear ye speak of her inflames My heart with anger. Say, why do ye think That she's more fair than I?" Then made reply The women: "Bidasari's eyes are soft. Her smile is sweet, her skin is tinted like The green _tjempakka_, and her graceful form Resembles some famed statue nobly made. Her cheeks are like the bill of flying bird. We loved to look upon her neck. Her nose Is like a jasmine bud. Her pretty face Is like the yellow of an egg. Her thoughts Are pure as crystal. And she wears her hair In such a charming way. Her lips are like A little polished box. The flowers she wears But make her look the prettier. Her teeth Are like a bright pomegranate. Ah, the heart Doth open when one looketh on her face. She's like a princess of the Mount Lidang. Her features are like those of Nilagendi, Her heels are like the eggs of hens, and make Her seem a princess of Siam. Her fingers More tapering are than quills of porcupine. And solid is the nail of her left hand. No noble's girl is Bidasari's peer." Now when the princess heard them sing her praise Her soul was wounded as if by a thorn. Her dark eyes flashed. "Ah, speak no more of her," She said, "nor speak abroad what ye have seen. But bring me Bidasari. I would see If what ye say be true."