They then set about to arrange their looms, to select their threads, and
to begin work. At last they began. Whirr! Whirr! went the shuttles.
Spin! Spin! they sang, faster and faster, in and out, over and under,
flew the shuttles.
Arachne had chosen the most delicate, lovely threads that she could
find, but while she wove these beautiful threads she was thinking of her
revenge and other evil and wicked thoughts, while her skillful and swift
fingers moved faster and faster.
At the same time Athena was sitting in the sunlight, busily and
carefully weaving over and under, and in and out, her dainty, beautiful
silken threads, which seemed to have come from the very sunbeams
themselves. The colors were most harmonious and exquisite. Even the
rainbow was surpassed. Athena was thinking of the fleecy clouds, which
were to her as white ships that sailed through the blue sea of the sky.
She thought of the brown earth, with its emerald decking of trees and
meadows; of the buttercups and daisies of gold, and the roses and lilies
which dotted Mother Earth's carpet.
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