NARRATOR 1: Once in China there lived an old widow and her son, Chen. The widow was known all over for the brocades that she made on her loom. NARRATOR 4: Weaving threads of silver, gold, and colored silk into her cloth, she made pictures of flowers, birds, and animals— NARRATOR 2: pictures so real they seemed almost alive. NARRATOR 3: People said there were no brocades finer than the ones the widow wove. NARRATOR 1: One day, the widow took a pile of brocades to the marketplace, where she quickly sold them. Then she went about buying her household needs. NARRATOR 4: All at once she stopped. WIDOW: Oh, my! NARRATOR 2: Her eye had been caught by a beautiful painted scroll that hung in one of the stalls. NARRATOR 3: It showed a marvelous palace, all red and yellow and blue and green, reaching delicately to the sky. All around were fantastic gardens, and walking through them, the loveliest maidens. NARRATOR 1: The stall keeper asked, STALL KEEPER: Do