“Next day they searched and searched the forest till at last they found the men; and, lo! the men fell down on their knees before them, and the maids blushed exceedingly, their eyes sparkling with much joy. Ere the moon had faded to the size of a bird’s underwing, the maidens were full of jealousy, grief, and sorrow, for they were each in love with the very one who loved another. When the gods of the shadowland (who were, of course, aware of all that had happened) heard the moans and wailing lamentations of the men and women whom they had created, they said: ‘What _shall_ we do now? We have made children of the forest, and lo, have mixed them up the wrong way!’
“The goddess of Love gazed sorrowfully across the stars, and said: ‘I must see what can be done for them, for now that we have made them they are our children.’
“Then all the gods and goddesses stamped their feet in grief, and, crying out as with one voice, said: ‘What shall we do now that we have made the first children of the forest wrong?’
“The goddesses of Love and Passion replied: ‘We must now give unto them little children of their own; then they will throw the blame of their sorrows on themselves instead of on us who made them.’
“Then the goddess of Love continued: ‘Come on! Come on!’ and at once started to move towards the mountains of Mburoto, and all the gods sadly followed her. And when they stood beneath the mighty tree that threw branches of night across all the skies and blossomed the bright-fingered stars, she said: ‘Stay! It is here that we must gather the materials for the children of the children of this new world which we have made.’ Saying this, she stooped and gathered little bits of starlight. And the gods and goddesses, who followed close behind her, said: ‘What’s that for?’
“‘That’s for the little ones’ eyes,’ answered the goddess of Love. Then she gathered some tiny red flowers that were always murmuring music to the soft winds on the mountain side.
“‘What’s that for?’ murmured all the gods.
“‘Why, that’s to make the children’s tiny mouths with.’
“Then the goddess looked up and gave a soft whistle; and down from the beautiful palm trees of Mburoto came fluttering to her feet small, black-breasted birds.