asked them why they were
so naughty, and why they liked to live in fruits and flowers instead
of staying in the palace or going to school. The children answered,
"We go to school sometimes, and then we come back and live in our
flowers, and then we return to school, and then we come back to our
flower-homes again." "This is a lie you are telling me," said their
father. "You know quite well you have not been at school at all." The
Maharani came in to hear what all this talking meant, and when she saw
the children she said to Anarbasa Maharaja, "These are not your
children, yours are at school." "They are my children," he answered,
"and they have never been at school at all, and they are very
naughty." He then sent them away to play, and the Rani returned to her
room. But he sat alone in his room, for he was angry and cross. As he
sat there one of his chaprasis came to him and said, "Maharaj, you do
not know how ill the Maharani treats your children, or you would not
be angry with them. She has killed them several times, and sent them
away into the jungle; and after they came out of the bel-fruit she
killed them and chopped them into small pieces, and fed the kites and
crows with their flesh." When the Maharaja heard all this, he said to
the chaprasi, "You must have a beautiful little house built for me;
you must take care that it is chiefly made of wood; the flooring must
be very thin and of wood; and the hollow place under the flooring must
be filled with dry wood. Then you must put plenty of flowers inside
the house, and plenty outside so as to make it very pretty."

As soon as the house was ready the Maharaja went to his wife and asked
her if she would go out with him to eat the air. "I should like to
show you a new house I have had built for you," he said. So she went
with him and thought her new house lovely. While she was inside
looking at the pretty flowers in the rooms, the Maharaja slipped out,
and bolted the door so that she could not escape, and he told his
servants to set fire to the wood under the flooring. When the flames
began to rise the Rani got very frightened. She rushed to the window
and called to the Maharaja and his servants, who were standing there
looking on, to save her. No one said anything to her. "Save me," she
cried, "or I shall be burnt to death." "If you are burnt, what does it
matter?" said the Maharaja. "You ill-treated my children; you killed
them; so, now burn."

As soon as she was b