He spoke some words and gradually his limbs began to stir.
He rose.  She gasped to see the gift her prayers had earned for her,
for there he was.  The two embraced.  Her rapture was profound.
Next morning she said, “Father, here’s my groom.”  Her father frowned.

There stood a youth, a handsome youth as ever there had been.
He saw him leave his daughter’s room, but when had he gone in?
No matter.  His was beauty some would pay a lot to see.
“If he’s the object of your heart then, Betta, I agree.”

They named him Pintosmalto and they held a wedding feast
to which there came an unknown queen who took one look and ceased
to care for anything save how to get that youth alone.
She loved him at first sight and she must have him for her own.

Pintosmalto was naive.  He thought the queen at play,
but she enticed him to her coach and stole him clean away.
When Betta could not find him she at once correctly guessed
he’d been purloined.  No need to say that Betta was distressed.

When proclamations did no good, she dressed in beggar’s clothes
and swore to search the world.  “Where will I find him?  Heaven knows.”
The months went by and on she trudged.  A kind crone saw her plight 
and said, “You’re pregnant, I can see.  Come in, and spend the night.

When it was time to leave the crone said, “Here’s my gift.  Pay heed.
Three sayings that will help you when you feel in direst need.
The first is ‘Pozzolana, in the house it rains.’  And say
the second when you want it.  ‘Presto, watch the fountain play.’