The King of the White Lily
You’ve never seen a palace? Why, my dears, you have seen a great many. Sit round me here, and I will tell you about one, the ruins of which you saw this morning. In some respects it was quite remarkable; not much like the one Queen Victoria lives in.
This palace had six walls, and only one room. There were three inner walls, and three outer ones, and wherever two inner walls met, an outer wall covered the place. The people who dwelt in the palace called the walls the “Perianth.” Each of the inner walls were called a “petal,” and each of the outer ones a “sepal.” They were covered outside and inside with snowy white silk, filled with the most delicious perfume. There were no windows, for each wall tapered to a point at, the upper end, and drooped over the outside of the palace, leaving it, open to the light and the pure air.
A house of so delicate a fabric could not rest on the ground without being soiled by the dust and dirt of the earth, so it was held far aloft on a slender, green column. It did not stand upright like Queen Victoria’s palace, but it leaned over toward the ground, so that when the rain came down, none should remain in the palace and drown the people. They would have fallen out, too, had they not been made as fast to the floor as were the walls of the palace.
That seems dreadful to you little people who take such delight in running about on your little feet. But they were very well contented to remain where they were and only look out upon the world, for they would have died had they left their beautiful home.
The throne covered nearly all the floor of the palace; and the king stood on the centre of it. His head reached far above the walls, for he was very tall, and very straight and slender. He wore a robe of pale green, and on his head was an emerald insignia, more like a helmet than a crown. It was divided into three parts. One part drooped over and rested against the back of his head, one part against the right side, and one against the left.
There stood around the throne six tall men dressed in white, bearing salvers of gold-dust on their heads. They called the salvers “anthers,” and the gold-dust “pollen,” but it was not like the gold-dust you saw at the jeweler’s.
I want you to notice how the number three figured in nearly everything. It was a sacred number with them. There were three inner walls, and three outer ones. Six (two threes) tall men, and the king’s crown was divided into three parts.
A strange thing about the tall men was that one could not be distinguished from another, so near alike were they, and they were each named “Stamen.” Although they were very tall, they were not so tall as their king. They were very faithful servants, looking always up to him to know his commands.
When the wind blew a little, they bowed down before King Pistil, and the salvers swung back and forth, causing tiny clouds of gold-dust to rise and fall upon him. Then he was glad, and bowed to them, that they might see that he was pleased with them. For he only required them to sprinkle a little gold-dust upon him, then he made it into pieces of money and packed them away into three large boxes under his throne.
But sometimes this frail palace was at the mercy of the great winds. It swayed to and fro before them, tossing the tall men about so they could not prevent some of the gold-dust falling on the walls.
Then King Pistil trembled with grief at seeing the gold-dust being wasted, and the tall men leaned toward him trying to comfort him.
Then the rain came, and fell into the palace, and washed it clean, and bathed the king and his servants; and when the sun shone again, they sparkled all over with diamonds.
But some strange people passing by stopped to admire them, and to inhale their sweet fragrance; and one of the palaces with all its inmates was carried away by them. Then there was mourning, for they knew it was certain death to any of them if their palace was taken from the column on which it rested.
King Pistil’s money increased until the boxes could hold no more; and the throne began to creak as though it would fall apart. The walls of the palace were falling away too. The tall men looked old and feeble; and the king felt himself growing weak and infirm, and he knew that he soon must die. So he unlocked his money boxes, that after he was gone, they might open, and the money be scattered far and near, and other palaces spring up, and other kings live, as he had lived, giving pleasure to all who came near.
Very soon after, the king and his servants died, the boxes burst open showing them well filled with money. Some of it fell on the ground under the palace, that another might spring up there in memory of King Pistil; and some of it was carried a long distance by the wind before it was dropped on the ground.
Now, my dears, let us go into the garden, and look at the white lilies, and see if my story of their king and his palace is correct. Tell me, if you can, how his money differed from ours. Why it had to be scattered on the ground, and what it was called by King Pistil.