ng this question, the king of the mines had a very cunning
purpose; for, you will recollect, if Proserpina tasted a morsel of food
in his dominions, she would never afterward be at liberty to quit them.

"No, indeed," said Proserpina. "Your head cook is always baking, and
stewing, and roasting, and rolling out paste, and contriving one dish or
another, which he imagines may be to my liking. But he might just as
well save himself the trouble, poor, fat little man that he is. I have
no appetite for anything in the world, unless it were a slice of bread
of my mother's own baking, or a little fruit out of her garden."

When Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had mistaken the best
method of tempting Proserpina to eat. The cook's made dishes and
artificial dainties were not half so delicious in the good child's
opinion as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres had accustomed her.
Wondering that he had never thought of it before, the king now sent one
of his trusty attendants, with a large basket, to get some of the finest
and juiciest pears, peaches and plums which could anywhere be found in
the upper world. Unfortunately, however, this was during the time when
Ceres had forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow; and, after seeking
all over the earth, King Pluto's servant found only a single
pomegranate, and that so dried up as to be not worth eating.
Nevertheless, since there was no better to be had, he brought this dry,
old, withered pomegranate home to the palace, put it on a magnificent
golden salver, and carried it up to Proserpina. Now it happened,
curiously enough, that, just as the servant was bringing the pomegranate
into the back door of the palace, our friend Quicksilver had gone up the
front steps, on his errand to get Proserpina away from King Pluto.

As soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden salver, she told
the servant he had better take it away again.

"I shall not touch it, I assure you," said she. "If I were ever so
hungry, I should never think of eating such a miserable, dry pomegranate
as that."

"It is the only one in the world," said the servant. He set down the
golden salver, with the wizened pomegranate upon it, and left the room.
When he was gone, Proserpina could not help coming close to the table,
and looking at this poor specimen of dried fruit with a great deal of
eagerness; for, to say the truth, on seeing something that suited her
taste, she felt all the six months' appe