He has set up an elaborate game, a scheme of pure delight. Hiding himself, he moves with a dancing, leaping gait. The game is on, the game is on! When they fall at his feet, he will not relent and will not return their garments. He snatches their saris, shawls, petticoats, tassels, sashes, and blouses, and with all of them in hand, he scrambles up the Kadamba tree. Draping them over his shoulder, he looks down directly at them and bursts out laughing. The children play in joyful uproar, clapping and tumbling. Some challenge one another with various feats of daring; the game grows wider and wilder. When one comes out of the water, she looks for her clothes and says: I do not know who took them or when. They all call out together, and more come out, wondering how they will get home now. The wearer of the forest garland laughs, looking down at them all. Ashamed, they hide in the water, covering themselves with their hands. They plead: protect our honor, O Gopala. What do you want at this moment? We will give you sweets. He says: come out, all of you, come before me with folded hands. Do not chatter and waste words. I care nothing for trinkets, ornaments, or wealth. Give me your hearts and minds undivided. They look at one another and abandon their shame. One says: come, friend, let us go to him. With folded hands they stand quietly. Says Tuka, he spoke the word and their honor was preserved.