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king upon a cross as if he had been a robber and
a murderer.
“‘And the people mocked him. Only his mother
and his friends wept that he should die before he
became king.
“‘Oh, how the dead world sorrowed at his death!
“‘The sun lost its light, and the mountains shook;
the veil of the temple was rent, and the graves
opened to allow the dead to rise and show their
sorrow.’
“The child lay with her head on the grandmother’s
knee, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
“‘Don’t cry, dear; the good king rose again and
went to his father in heaven.’
“‘Grandmother,’ she sobbed, ‘did he never
receive his kingdom here?’
“‘He sits at the right hand of God.’
“But that did not comfort her. She wept as
hopelessly and as unrestrainedly as only a child can weep.
“‘Why were they so cruel to him? Why were
they allowed to be so cruel to him?’
“The old lady was almost frightened at such
overwhelming sorrow.
“‘Say, grandmother, that you did not tell the
story rightly! Say that it ended differently, that they
were not so cruel to the good king, and that he
received his kingdom here on earth!’
“She flung her arms around her grandmother,
tears still streaming from her eyes.
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