So the King forgot in a moment the troubles he had left behind on earth, and gave himself up to the delights of the heavenly feast. He thought he could look for ever at this glorious house of Zeus, compared to which his golden palace seemed but a mere hovel. Here topaz and emerald, and all stones known on earth as precious, because they are found only in small pieces, were to be seen in blocks as big as the masses of marble on his own hillsides. Therefore the gods wore no jewels, such as earthly kings are adorned with, and as for silver and gold, though their houses and furniture seemed to be made of those metals, they were not the same silver and gold that there is in this world of ours, but so much purer and finer that the light shone through them. So the hall where the Immortals were feasting looked like a temple build out of moonbeams and sunbeams, and rainbows, and its sapphire pavement like a piece of sky, which is just what it was.

The tables in this hall were covered with every sort of delicious fruit that grows in all the countries of the world, for in the garden of Zeus they are all ripe the whole year round. there were peaches and grapes, oranges and pomegranates and strawberries, and many more sorts that Tantalus had never seen before. The King noticed that none of the Immortals took any of these fruits from the baskets of myrtle-twigs in which they were piled, and that clouds of butterflies were hovering over the tables, Now the plates of his neighbours seemed always full, but his remained empty, and as no one offered him anything he began to think the gods were strangely neglecting their guest.

"You do not understand our customs, friend Tantalus," said the merry voice of Hermes in his ear. "We offer you nothing, because you have only to wish, and your plate will be as full as mine." The King looked at a superb bunch of grapes which he saw in front of him, but just as he wished for it, it disappeared. At the same instant a very large purple butterfly settled on his plate; he put out his hand to touch it, and it was gone, but in its place there lay the bunch of grapes. Then he wished for an orange, and the same thing happened, only this time the butterfly's wings were golden-red.

"I do not understand those butterflies," he said to Hermes

"They are your wishes," said the young god, "and if you look, you will see the wishes of my companions bringing them whatever they may fancy in the same way."

"This is a strange magic," said the Kin, who now felt quite at ease with the friendly Hermes. "But now I see a number of golden bees flying about the tables, which I think must be wishes too, for wherever one alights, it vanishes and a round cake the colour of honey appears in its place. Tell me, Hermes, if these fruits and those small cakes are all your food, for though nothing can be more delicious than your fruit, I should not care, for my part, to live on figs and grapes and honey-break."

Hermes, at these words, could not answer for laughing, but Athena, that grey-eyed goddess who sat on the King's other side, turned her grave face to him, and said, "You know no what you say, O Tantalus! That honey-bread, as you call it, is the bread of immortality, which in the speech of men is called ambrosia, and those who eat of it live for ever. Rich and great you may be, King of Lydia, but wise you are not, or you would know better than to ask if we Immortals have such food as pleases your gross mortal appetite. An ox roasted whole, perhaps, is what you hoped for at my father's table?"

Tantalus knew that Athena was the wisest of all the gods, except her father Zeus, and he was ashamed that she had overheard his thoughtless words.

"Lady and Queen," he answered, "forgive what I have spoken in my ignorance. How could I know that the bread was the divine ambrosia, of which men tell but know not what it is like?"

"Come, sister," then said Hermes, still laughing, "do not be offended with our guest. Remember we do not all despise the food of mortals, and Zeus himself has eaten porridge in a peasant's hut. Yes, Tantalus, once I travelled on earth with Zeus, in the disguise of wandering pedlars, that we might see who would show kindness to the poor and homeless. And when we had been turned away from many a rich man's door, we found shelter with two poor old cottagers, who gladly shared their humble supper with us out of charity. Those worthy souls, Philemon and his wife Baucis, were terrified when we showed ourselves in our true shape next morning, but they soon had their reward, for Zeus promised to grant whatever they should ask."

"Then I suppose they asked to be made King and Queen of that country," said Tantalus, "though I cannot say I ever heard of a King Philemon or a Queen Baucis."

"No," replied Hermes, "the only thing they wanted was never to be parted, or to leave the cottage where they had been so happy together. Zeus promised that they never should, and when they had ended their lives in peace at the same moment, they were changed into two oak trees, which are still flourishing where their cottage stood."

Tantalus thought to himself, "What a stupid old couple! If I had been in their place, I should have asked Zeus for something very different." But aloud he only said, "That is a very pretty story," not wishing to risk another reproof from the severe Athena.

She, however, seemed ready to make him amends for speaking so sternly, and, breaking a cake of ambrosia in her snowy hands, she gave him half of it, with a gracious look. "You also, King," she said, "have earned a reward for your hospitality, and this is it. Unlike Philemon and Baucis, you already have everything that a man can wish for on earth, therefore Zeus wills to give you the one gift you have not, the gift of immortality."

Tantalus took the piece of ambrosia, and wondered to feel how light it was. He tasted it, and it was like nothing he had ever tasted before, and it melted in his mouth like snow. Never had food seemed to him so delicious, yet he could not tell if it was sweet, or sour, or salt, because these are the names of earthly flavours, and the flavour of ambrosia is different from any of them. Now he saw that Poseidon and Aphrodite gave the child Pelops fruit to eat and nectar to drink, but they did not give him ambrosia, and he wished that Pelops also should eat this bread of immortality.

"Will not the gods give ambrosia to my son," he asked Athena, rather timidly, "that he too may live for ever?"

But the wise goddess shook her head. "We may not give it to a child," she said, "and I will tell you the reason. When we have once given a gift, we have no power to take it back again. So it would be cruel to give the gift of immortality to any one who was not old enough to choose whether he will live for ever, or die, like other men, when his time comes."

"Surely," said the King, "there is no one who would not choose to live for ever."

"Ah, Tantalus," said Athena, and a strange look of pity came into her grey eyes, "you think so now, because you have never known pain or sorrow. But how would it be if your life were full of misery instead of happiness? Think what it would mean to you then, to know you could not die. Beware, moreover, that you  presume not to give our gift to others, for that were deadly sin."

These words, which he was to remember when too late, gave the King a vague feeling of dread, as if some unknown evil was about to befall him, and he was glad that Hebe at this moment filled his cup with nectar, and Apollo took his lyre and sang a joyous song.

When this was ended, Zeus called him to his side, and said: "Now, Tantalus, I, who was your guest, have given you feast for feast, and since you gave me your best, I have granted you the highest reward a mortal can have. Henceforth you need not fear death, and so long as you deserve to be the friend of the gods, you shall drink with us the sacred nectar which continually renews our youth and gladness."

"And yet, O King of us all," said Hera, with her scornful smile, "I think that this our guest desires a certain gift so much that he would prefer it to nectar and ambrosia."

"Let him name it, Lady of my heart," answered Zeus, "for we will not have him depart with any desire unsatisfied."

"I can name it," Hera said, tossing her queenly head. "It is Fame, and were I a mortal, I would seek it through the world, as all those heroes do who are my favourites among men."

"That I can well believe," replied Zeus gravely, "but now let our friend speak for himself. How say you, Tantalus? Have you not fame enough already, being known for the richest and most hospitable king in all the world?"

Now the words of Hera had reminded Tantalus that his fame among men was in danger from the evil-speaking of the people who would not believe he had feasted the gods.

"Great Zeus," he said, "I cannot thank you enough for the wonderful reward you have given me this night. But since you bid me, I will dare to confess that there is one thing wanting to make me entirely happy."

Then he told how the great honour the gods had done him by coming to his banquet was not believed by any one, and how that very night the ambassadors from a far country had asked for a proof of the story. And he prayed Zeus to grant him some token, which these men might see and believe. He heard the god answer, "When you awake, O Tantalus, you shall find such a token beside you," and then a rosy mist began to float before his eyes. He could just see that Hermes stood beside him, slowly waving his want, then his eyes closed, and he knew no more.