Page:The art of story-telling, with nearly half a hundred stories, y Julia Darrow Cowles .. (IA artofstorytellin00cowl).pdf/201

 Now, dreadful stories came to the queen's ears of how the king would fling people into prison for the smallest offence, or wring their necks like chickens; but alas! what could she do in the matter? She, herself, sat like a prisoner in the royal castle, and never was she allowed to go out on foot but only on horseback followed by a royal retinue and closely guarded.

It happened one day, however, that the queen was in church—there at least the king could not prevent her from going—and as she knelt in prayer before the high altar, she noticed how meanly and poorly God's holy altar was adorned.

Then the queen wept bitterly and said to herself: "I drink out of golden goblets, and silver torches are lighted on my table, but upon God's altar the candlesticks are of pewter and the velvet cloth which covers the Lord's table is all faded and patched. I cannot bear to see it." And thereupon she slowly and carefully unclasped her necklace, drew off seven of the largest pearls and laid them upon the altar.

That evening she had her hair combed back and fastened in a knot upon her neck, so