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Rh the great Khan sat munching the cakes with evident enjoyment.

"Good youth," said he, at length, "tell me what these are made of, for I must have my royal cook learn the art and bake me such goodly cakes daily. Never have I tasted anything better."

"Sire," replied Daibang, "these are very simple cakes; they are made of rice flour and milk—my mother baked them and kneaded into them her love and prayers for me, her only child."

After that the Khan remained silent for a long time. When at last Daibang had finished his work and begged leave to retire, the Khan turned and, looking steadfastly at him, said:

"Young man, the love that your mother kneaded into those cakes has entered my very soul, and I cannot bring myself to give the order for your execution, as I have done these many times with lads like you. Nevertheless, you have learned my secret, and for that reason you should die, for I