So wishing to make her offering on the day of the full moon, she pastured a thousand cows in the woods, and with their milk she nourished five hundred cows, and with theirs two hundred and fifty, drawing life through life until at last she possessed eight cows thus fed on the strength and life of a thousand, and no purer nor stronger milk could be. And this being ready Sujata rose earlier than dawn and, went to the byre with her pails, and as she came near the milk flowed in streams without milking, even as when the calves crowd for their food about their mothers. So she took it and placed it in a new vessel and added rice, and herself made a fire and cooked it. And the bubbles rose and froth, but not a drop ran over the brim, and the fire burned clear and steady without smoke or blackness. And as a man crushes golden honey from the comb that has formed about a stick—the very essence of honey—so into that pure food was infused a marvellous sustenance. And Sujata said to her waiting-maid, Punna: “Punna, dear girl, surely the deity is auspiciously disposed to us. The omens are good. Run therefore and get all ready beneath the tree.” And Punna answered obediently: “Yes, lady,” and ran. And when she came to the tree, the Bodhisattva—the Buddha-to-be—sat beneath it, and it appeared to her that his body shone like light and she flushed and trembled with terror, saying: “Good indeed are the omens, for this is the Tree-Spirit himself come to receive our offering!” And with all her might she ran to tell this to her lady, and when Sujata heard it she cried out: “From this day be to me as a daughter, for this great good news!” And running to where she kept her jewels she put upon the happy Punna all those ornaments suitable to a daughter of the house. And she thought; “What more can I do? For this is a great day,” and so took up a precious golden dish and into this she poured the milk-rice, and it rolled in like drops of water slipping off a lily-leaf and filled the vessel, neither more nor less. Then, covering it with a golden cover, she adorned herself with her best jewels and went stately to worship and make her offering. So she came along the banks of the river, glad in the dawn, robed in grey like a cloud before sunrise, and about her slender wrists were bracelets of white chalcedony and the grey and white of them resembled the colours of the rounded river-bubble before it breaks, and she came as softly. And parting the boughs she saw the Prince, his head fallen back against the tree, eyes closed and helpless hands beside him, and deep pity and veneration stirred in her heart, and seeing it was no Tree-Spirit but a holy man she thought “May he accept it!” And bowing repeatedly she raised the dish in both hands, entreating his greatness and thus offered it humbly, saying: