At length she sat herself down in the deep solitude to rest; and as she listened to the gentle zephyrs that fanned her yellow tresses or rustled amidst the topmost boughs of the "green-haired" forest trees, the birds plucked for her the ripest and the sweetest fruits, and some dropped them at her side, and others, less timid, hovered around her, holding them in their tender bills, each fluttering against the other and striving to be the favored one to whom she would open her sweet mouth to be fed; and while the many-hued birds were thus rivalling each other in their delicate attentions to the lovely maiden, it chanced that a gorgeous butterfly, more glorious than any she had ever before seen, alighted on a neighboring flower. Up sprang Vela Chow, and away she flew after it, from flower to flower, from shrub to tree, until at last the tantalizing butterfly flew so high in the air that the eager damsel could do no more than raise her fair face and sparkling eyes to follow its airy flight through the bright sky. Just at this moment P'hra Athiett's golden chariot was coming over the hill, and he smiled a smile of such ineffable delight when he caught sight of her, that he dazzled the eyes of the poor little maiden; and as she could no longer see the beautiful butterfly, she was obliged to relinquish all idea of capturing it. So she retraced her disconsolate steps to her lonely mountain stream, and plunged into its waters, in the hope of finding therein refreshment and forgetfulness of her cruel disappointment. But P'hra Athiett was not to be thus baffled; so he noiselessly climbed higher and higher, and approached nearer and nearer, and smiled so much more warmly than ever, that he once more quite overpowered the weary maiden, who suddenly vanished from his sight, sought refuge in her favorite mountain cavern, and there fell sound asleep.