pieces. Dip the pieces in wax; then sew them upon those bare branches. And use such artistry that no eye can discover they are not true leaves. Tsu po (be quick)." The cheng i (make clothes) hastily employed all the city's master workmen, some cutting and many sewing. Overnight the trees took on a color. Indeed, the tailor went beyond his orders, for on the peach trees he sewed lovely pink blossoms. And some blossoms he tacked to the ground—as if in their ripeness they had fallen.
For a few days Tiao Fu was in somewhat better humor. Once she actually smiled. But all too soon those few days were over and her crossness returned. "What now, my pearl of southern seas?" said the King. "Have the leaves lost their freshness? Do they no longer please?" "Oh [pout], it isn't the leaves. They are quite homelike. It's the wind that I miss. I long to hear the shrieking wind of Kiang Sing, hurling its rain against my lattice. Oh, I wish it would rain."
Poor King Ho Chu was hard put. Wind? Wind? . . . By the uprooted pine tree of
