But the garden was walled in, and unless the inner door was open there was no entrance.

Going thither, Kunda found the door open, and, stepping boldly in, hid herself within the boughs of a _bakul_ tree growing in the midst.
Thickly-planted rows of creeper-covered trees decked the garden, between which were fine stone-made paths, and here and there flowering shrubs of various hues--red, white, blue, and yellow.

Above them hovered troops of insects, coveting the morning honey, now poising, now flying, humming as they went; and, following the example of man, settling in flocks on some specially attractive flower.

Many-coloured birds of small size, flower-like themselves, hovered over the blossoms, sipping the sweet juices and pouring forth a flood of melody.

The flower-weighted branches swayed in the gentle breeze, the flowerless boughs remaining still, having nothing to weigh them down.
The cuckoo, proud bird, concealing his dark colour in the tufts of the _bakul_ tree, triumphed over every one with his song.
In the middle of the garden stood a creeper-covered arbour of white stone, surrounded by flowering shrubs.