The farmer was feeble and old, so his daughter had to do all this. The
gold-horned cow's stable was a sort of a "lean-to," built into the
side of the cottage where Drusilla and her father lived. Its roof, as
well as that of the cottage, was thatched and overgrown with moss, out
of which had grown, in its turn, a little starry white flower, until
the whole roof looked like a flower-bed. There were roses climbing
over the walls of the cottage and stable, also, pink and white ones.
Drusilla used to keep the gold-horned cow's stable in exquisite order.
Her trough to eat out of, was polished as clean as a lady's china
tea-cup. She always had fresh straw, and her beautiful long tail was
tied by a blue ribbon to a ring in the ceiling, in order to keep it
nice.
The gold-horned cow's milk was better than any other's, as one would
reasonably suppose it to have been. The cream used to be at least an
inch thick, and so yellow; and the milk itself had a peculiar and
exquisite flavor--perhaps the best way to describe it, is to say it
tasted as lilies smell. The gentry all about were eager to buy it,
and willing to pay a good price for it. Drusilla used to go around to
supply her customers, nights and mornings, a bright, shining milk-pail
in each hand, and one on her head. She had learned to carry herself so
steadily in consequence that she walked like a queen.
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