They were all confused to be taken out of the classroom, and they thought their songs were not really ready for public performance. Still, this was what they had been practicing for, some of them actually for years. The little girls were wearing their long white formal robes, and each had flowers placed in her hair. They were supposed to sing a mourning song as the high official heaved into view, and their hair had been let down so they would appear to be in mourning.

But they were not unhappy. The king had died years ago. They were simply being educated to keep up the mourning rituals so that his soul could be made happy in the West. To achieve that end, ladies had to sing at least once a day; it was an easy job, they were constantly told. They did not even have to grind grain or do any of the other tasks that women usually had to do. They did, however, have to get the songs right. So they waited patiently in their fine clothes, the first words playing through their minds.