"But this did not lessen the Prince's grief. Whenever possible he would go to the river's banks to mourn. The people, seeing him there, would repeat the story, so that after a while the river became associated with the name of the dog and was spoken of as the Moldava. Gradually the name, slightly modified, was applied also to all of the surrounding country." "Please tell me more stories about Moldavia," begged Jonitza, when his mother had been silent for some time. "Listen then to the story of Movila," again began his mother, glad to see that the restless look had left her son's face. "This is a story of King Stephen who was great in mind but very small in body. Once in a battle with Hungarians his horse was killed under him. As the horse fell, the King was caught by one of his heralds, a man as large as Stephen was small. After assisting him to his feet, the herald offered Stephen his own horse. The King looked up at the big animal with a frown, but the herald, kneeling before him, placed Stephen's foot on his shoulder and exclaimed: 'Oh, Prince, allow me to serve you as a mole-hill.' "'Mole-hill,' returned Stephen, getting on the horse, 'I will make a mountain of you.' "Then Fortune favored Stephen and soon the victory was his. No sooner was he back in camp than he sent for the herald. When the latter came, he found Stephen surrounded by his court. 'Herald,' said Stephen, 'thou hast served me as a mole-hill. In return I give thee the name of Movila (little mountain). Thou shalt have no other. Thou gavest me thy horse in my need. In return, I give thee five full domains over which thou shalt rule.'" The carriage here stopped before a tiny tavern in a little vineyard surrounded town. They were disappointed in finding that they could get nothing for lunch except raw onions with salt and _mamaliga_, the cold corn meal mush that is eaten everywhere throughout peasant Roumania. At first Mrs. Popescu thought they would eat from their own well-filled lunch basket, but when Maritza remarked that _mamaliga_ was really very good, she changed her mind. Then, as they seated themselves before a table on the vine-covered veranda, she asked Maritza to tell them how the _mamaliga_ is prepared. "The water must be hot," said the maid, "before the meal is stirred into it. You continue stirring until it is almost done, then you can add a little grated cheese. At our house, when it is well cooked, we put it into a cloth and tie it up." Here some dried fish which the owner of the tavern had perhaps not intended to serve at first, were laid on the table. "These fish have a nice flavor," remarked Mrs. Popescu. "I know how they also are prepared," said Maritza, "for my brother has helped get them ready." "Suppose you tell us about it, Maritza," said Mrs. Popescu, evidently not wishing the party to hurry.