Nevertheless, so great was his hunger that King Midas groaned aloud. Pretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat a moment gazing at her father, and trying with all her might to find out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful desire to comfort him, she ran to him and threw her arms lovingly about his knees. He bent down and kissed her. He felt that his little daughter’s love was worth a thousand times more than the Golden Touch.

“My precious, precious Marygold!” cried he.

But Marygold made no answer.

Alas, what had he done? The moment the lips of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a change had taken place. Her sweet rosy face, so full of affection as it had been, became a glittering yellow color with yellow teardrops hardening on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and tender little form grew hard and stiff within her father’s arms. O terrible misfortune! Little Marygold was a human child no longer, but a golden statue!

Yes, there she was, with the look of love, grief, and pity hardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most woeful sight that anyone ever saw. All the features of Marygold were there, even the beloved little dimple in her golden chin. It had been a favorite habit of Midas, whenever he felt particularly fond of the child, to say that she was worth her weight in gold. And now the phrase had become really true. And now, at last, when it was too late, he realized how much greater value had a warm and tender heart that loved him than all the wealth that could be piled up betwixt the earth and sky!