There was a Maharajah who had seven daughters. He loved them all equally well. Though they were all very pretty, the youngest was the best-looking of the seven, and she was the favourite of her mother. One day while they were all playing in the palace-gardens, they asked one another whom each loved most and preferred to live with. All the six elder ones said they would never like to leave their parents' home, where they were so happy, and they all preferred to stay with their own sisters. The youngest sister kept silent and never said a word to all this. Some of the elder sisters came to her and asked: "How is it that you do not join us in the talk?"

She answered softly: "I dare not; you might scold me, if you heard my view of the matter."

Then the six sisters cried out together: "What is it? What is your idea about it?"

"Won't you get annoyed if I spoke plainly?"

"Why should we be?"

"You might be," sweetly said the little girl.

"Don't be foolish," said the others. "Let us know what your idea is."

The youngest sister said: "We often hear mother say there is nobody like the husband to a woman, and that she can love no one more than her husband. I often wonder if I shall ever get married."