Great gladness
*Do you know that birds that sing mot sweetly, e.g., the nightingale, the sky lark. The koel, thrushes are all very plain- looking birds- usually brown of black?
That night, at four minutes to ten, Lalita got off her bed and went to the window. The big yellow moon was shining, but the night was cold. So she took a rose and sliver Mysore Scart and put it over hear head. Then she went quietly out of the house and walked down to the lotus tank bund. She saw one lotus shining in the moonlight, and she went own on her knees besides the tank bund and took the flower in her hands.
And t once Lalita knew that she could sing! Still on her knees beside the lake, she sang a lovely bird-like song, more beautiful than any song she had heard in her life. Lalita cried with happiness.
``O little brown joy, where are you? She said. ``Thank you, thank you a thousand times!’’
She heard an ugly little voice besides her, saying: `` I am glad to make you happy, beautiful princess’’.
Lalita looked round and saw the little brown joy. His black eyes were shining, but his body was trembling with cold. ``I am not usually out at night,’’ he said, but I wanted to hear you sing’’. His voice was ugly and noisy.
``O little joy,’’ said Lalita, ``you are very cold. See I will give you my Scart.’’ she took the Mysore Scart from her head and put if round the trembling jay. ``Now you look very beautiful,’’ she said. ``I wish you could always be as beautiful as this!’’
And all at once the jay’s feathers took on the shining colors of the Scart. He was a brown jay no more: he was a beautiful rose jay! And Lalita looked down, and saw hat she still had the louts flower in er hand. That was why her second wish had also come true.
The jay flew off, talking noisily in his ugly voice, and Lalita went back o bed, signing quietly to herself.
After seven months, there was great gladness in the town gladness in the city, when princess Lalita, ``the princess with the lovely voice,’’ was married to prince Prhabaker. Every one was happy; but no one was happier than the little rose jay, as he flew through the garden, his feather shining in the sun.
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