“‘Sing the song about it, Castor,’ said Andromeda. But he didn’t, because Draco exclaimed suddenly: ‘It’th going to clear!’ “They had forgotten all about the weather! “‘Goodness!’ cried Cassiopeia. ‘I do believe it is! And we’ve all that way to go! Come this second, or we’ll be caught in it!’ “And, just as we’re going to scurry in before that big black cloud catches us, those careless Star People had to scamper, laughing all the way, back to their places, to be there before the clouds drifted away. They were lucky that it cleared so late. All they lost of the party was Castor’s song about the ship. And they knew it as well as he did.” “But we don’t know it,” said Phyllisy. Pat twisted her eyebrow and glanced up for an instant. “If we go now, we can’t scurry. It won’t come soon enough. You can tell it.” The Kitten looked up, too, weatherwise. Then she folded her hands very comfortably in her lap. “It truly won’t,” she said. And the Princess believed her, and leaned back once more in the flowery chair. “I’d like to sing it to you,” she said, “because it’s such a pretty song, and it explains what they meant by the Ship’s growing lighter.” The wind of the shower stirred the plumes of asters behind the Princess’s head while she sang; but even when the song was ended they weren’t obliged to scurry. So they waited a little longer for an excuse to scamper, because they wanted to. THE SONG OF THE SHIP “I’ll build you a palace of gold, my dear, With diamond knobs for its doors; With banqueting-halls, And rooms to give balls, And thistle-down rugs on the floors. And other splendors untold, my dear, Shall be yours. When I once begin To build the palace, it won’t take long.” “Oh, when?” “When my ship comes in.” “Would you ride in an ivory chariot, my dear, With steeds that are swift as the wind? Six zebras shall stand To wait your command; Then, away!—and leave dullness behind! Their harness of silk all a-tinkle with bells Of crystal, makes musical din. They shall surely be yours, if you’ll say but the word.” “But _when_?” “When my ship comes in.” There’s a Ship that is freighted with heart’s desires; Fast moored ’midst the stars she must lie, Till the last, least weight Of greed or of hate Shall out of her cargo fly. When the wish of each heart is gentle and kind, With no taint of a selfish sin, Then—light as a dream—the buoyant Ship, The Ship from the Stars shall come in! X TRAVELERS’ TALES