She came back to her rooms weeping.
"Mistress, what is wrong?"
"He said my feet were not like little lotuses ... he said they were like some larger, uglier flower ..."
They murmured in sympathetic chorus, "Nonsense ... your feet are tiny ... delicate ... perfumed, perfect lotus blossom feet ... he's blind ... he must be in a bad mood tonight ..."
"I won't let it happen again!"
She went to a pond covered with newly-opened lotuses and put her feet in the water, singing, "Lotus, take my feet, lotus, be my feet." Her feet replaced the flowers on two lotus-stems and two lotuses appeared on the end of her legs, perfectly soft and small. She crawled back to her rooms in triumph.
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