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3. Then write what you understand in that place.
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Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king be- sides, whose name was Midas'; and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never knew, or have entirely forgotten. So, because I love odd names for little girls, I choose to call her Marygold. This King Midas was fonder of gold than anything else in the world. He valued his royal crown chiefly because it was com- posed of that precious metal. If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was the one little maiden who played so merrily around her father's footstool. But the more Midas loved his daughter, the more did he desire and seek for wealth. He thought, foolish man ! that the best thing he could possibly do for his dear child would be to give her the immensest pile of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped together since the world was made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts' and all his time to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the gold tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real gold, and that they could be squeezed safely into his strong box. When little Marygold ran to meet him, with a bunch of buttercups and dandelions, he used to say, "Poll, poh, child ! If these flowers were as golden as they look, they would be worth the plucking ! " And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely possessed of this insane desire for riches. King Midas had shown a great taste for flowers.