garment worn underneath--the garment which indicated that she was a
virgin. Over her head and around her neck she wore the customary white
veil or "wimple."

As the donkey jogged along, stopping now and then to nibble at the
bushes on either side, she sat calmly looking out upon the
surroundings. Once in a while she would draw aside her veil and her
beautiful eyes would lift themselves to heaven with a look of rapture
and adoration in them, which was wonderful to see.

As they drew nearer to the town the look of anxiety upon the face of
the man deepened, for he began to realize more and more the crowded
condition of the place they were approaching. The hurry and bustle and
confusion made themselves felt far beyond the bounds of the town
itself.

They seemed to be strangers--at least they did not have relatives or
friends to whom they could turn; and the man started at once to make
his way to the inn or "kahn," as it was called in those days.

This inn was a quadrangular building made of rough stones. It was one
story high, with a flat roof, and it had not a single window. All
around it was a high wall, built of rocks; and the space between that
wall and the building made a safe enclosure for the animals.

The thing about these inns that would surprise you or me today was the
way in which the business connected with them was run. There was no
charge made for staying there, but safe lodging was freely given. Each
company which came brought its own bedding, its own food and
everything they needed to use in cooking. A resting place and safe
protection were all that were offered. The inn was in charge of one
caretaker. There were no other servants.

As the traveler, whose name was Joseph, drew near he found to his
dismay that he could not even make his way through the crowd to the
gate keeper, who was guarding the one entrance to the inn.

He decided to leave Mary, his wife, in the company of a family with
whom he had been talking while he made an effort to gain entrance.

When at last he reached the man in charge, he found it was just as he
had feared. The inn was full--there was no room for them there.

In vain he urged; he told of his own line of ancestors; of the noble
line from which his wife descended. The answer was always the same:
"There is no room."

At last he pleaded for Mary, his wife. He told the man in charge that
she was not strong, that she had come a long, long way and was very
tired; and urged