|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| "Oh, you know that girl," they assured her, "she must be in some friend’s house, having a good time. She hates responsibility. She may only be a little angry at you because you had asked her to work | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Pina’s mother rested easily with that thought, and she recovered quickly. But she was up and about and asking all around town for her precious little child, and still Pina had not returned. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| One sunny day, while Pina’s mother was cleaning their back yard, she saw a strange yellow fruit about as large as the head of a child that had sprung up from the ground. "How curious!" she thought, | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| "A thousand eyes...!" she gasped, remembering a mother’s curse carelessly let out. "My Pina!" | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| But there was nothing to be done. Imagine a thousand black eyes and not one of them seeing, and not one of them being able to shed a tear. Pina’s mother, who still loved the child more than anything | |
| | |
|
|
| | |
| To this day the Filipinos call the yellow fruit pinya, after the pretty spoiled child. | |
| | |
|
|
|
