'I don't care for golden palaces and thrones,' sobbed Proserpina. 'O my mother, my mother! Carry me back to my mother!'
But King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted to his steeds to go faster.
'Pray do not be foolish, Proserpina,' said he, in rather a sullen tone. 'I offer you my palace and my crown, and all the riches that are under the earth; and you treat me as if I were doing you an injury. The one thing which my palace needs is a merry little maid to run upstairs and down, and cheer up the rooms with her smile. And this is what you must do for King Pluto.'
'Never!' answered Proserpina, looking as miserable as she could. 'I shall never smile again till you set me down at my mother's door.'
But she might just as well have talked to the wind that whistled past them; for Pluto urged on his horses, and went faster than ever. Proserpina continued to cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly, that her poor little voice was almost screamed away; and when it was nothing but a whisper, she happened to cast her eyes over a great broad field of waving corn—and whom do you think she saw? Who but Mother Ceres, making the corn grow, and too busy to notice the golden chariot as it went rattling along. The child mustered all her strength, and gave one more scream, but was out of sight before Ceres had time to turn her head.
King Pluto had taken a road which now began to grow
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