"With pleasure," the Good Fairy replied politely, and off they started. They made a funny picture. Mrs. Minuet in her French heels was trotting along like a child of ten, while the Good Fairy, as dignified as ever, was floating on so rapidly that she led the stiff lady a merry race. What happened after that I must tell you. I heard the story both from the Good Fairy and from Mrs. Minuet.

Just on the other edge of Fairy Land's border they met Jack the Giant-Killer. "Oh, you horrid fellow," cried Mrs. Starchy Minuet, "you're the one that made Mrs. Sterling's two youngsters get hatchets and go 'round hunting for a giant to kill. And when they couldn't find a giant they hacked at my fence post till it cost me ten dollars to get it mended. I know you. Aren't you ashamed of all the mischief you've done over there? You ought to be."

But Jack the Giant-Killer laughed as merrily as he knew how, and wasn't ashamed a bit. He saucily stared in her face. Then he said:

"My dear Madam"-he called her Madam just for fun, you know-"my dear Madam, the worst giants I have killed were Giant Do-Nothing, and Giant Run-Away-Quick, and Giant Fickle-Heart. Every boy who has read about me knows that activity, and bravery, and stick-to-itiveness conquer all things. I'm not a horrid fellow at all. I'm a parable. That's what I am. Don't you understand?" And then he laughed again.

Mrs. Starchy Minuet looked puzzled. "I'm glad you explained," she said. "I never had thought of you in that light before. Good-by, Jack!" and she passed on, as pleasant as a basket of chips, while the Good Fairy laughed softly to herself.

The next they met was Little Bo-Peep. "Ah, ha!" said Mrs. Starchy Minuet, "you are the careless shepherdess; I remember you. I suppose you were reading a Mother Goose book when you lost track of the sheep. Don't you think 'twould have been better to attend to your work, dear? You shouldn't have been so frivolous."

Little Bo-Peep's eyes twinkled. "No, ma'am," she said, "I wasn't reading any book. I never learned to read. Folks didn't read much in my day. They did things instead. I guess I must have been chasing a butterfly, but I disremember."

"Don't say 'disremember,'" remarked Mrs. Starchy Minuet; "say 'don't remember' or 'I forget'."

"That's what I meant," said Little Bo-Peep; "I forget what I was doing. You see, it was so long, long ago. But I've been doing a lot of good since then, and I think that one little slip ought to be disremembered I mean forgotten, don't you?"

"Why, what good have you ever done?" asked Mrs. Minuet, in surprise.

Little Bo-Peep drew herself up proudly. "Don't you know? Why, I've taught a million little girls that

they mustn't neglect what they're set to attend to; and a million more that the worst things will come out right if you only wait long enough. I'm a Public Benefactor, that's what I am," and her little lips dwelt long on the four-syllable word.

Mrs. Minuet smiled kindly as she left the sheeptender. "I'm learning a few things as I go along," she observed to the Good Fairy. But the Good Fairy said nothing.

Then came Blue-Beard. He was a great, handsome, manly-looking fellow, though well along in years. "I don't want to see him," said Mrs. Starchy Minuet; "he has a very bad reputation. I don't see how a Good Fairy can think of introducing me to such a person.'

"Nonsense," said the Good Fairy; "he never was anything but a Figure of Speech, anyhow. He won't hurt you. Here, Mr. Blue-Beard," and before Mrs. Minuet knew what she was about her bluish fingers were clasping those of the Terror of the Nursery.

"I overheard your remark," Blue-Beard said pleasantly, "but I'm not a bit angry. I have the best temper in the world. You haven't understood the full meaning of my old story. I've accomplished a lot in my day that it's a satisfaction to look back upon, and I'm keeping up the good work. One should never weary of well-doing."

"Oh, you wretched creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Starchy Minuet, "how can you boast about such

things?" You see her feelings had got the better of her politeness.

"Why," said Blue-Beard, gently, "I've taught more youngsters to do what they're told to do, and to avoid nosing into things they've no business with, than any Sunday-School teacher that ever lived. My wives were like myself, nothing but Figures of Speech. Good-morning, madam. I am not much in the habit of apologizing for myself." And he moved away.

"I don't know but he's right," mused Mrs. Minuet, as she walked along. "It's queer what a new light they put things in, isn't it?"

The Good Fairy did not answer.

They were going by a green pasture. The Fairy pointed to a sad-looking mooley cow a hundred yards away. "You wouldn't think that was the cow that jumped over the moon, would you? She's been regretting the absurdity ever since. She's a moral lesson in the folly of doing eccentric things just to make yourself talked about. I'm afraid a lot of you society folks ought to meditate on the Cow that Jumped over the Moon. Don't you honestly think so, yourself?" And Mrs. Minuet had to own that the Good Fairy was right.

The Four and Twenty Blackbirds, quite cleared of piecrust by the lapse of years, fluttered over their heads. "What is the moral they teach?" asked Mrs. Minuet, rather humbly.

"Why," answered the Good Fairy, "can't you think? 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.' You see, the King didn't get a chance to eat them. Besides, the lesson is all the better because he was a king. Even royal people can't have just what they want and just when they want it every time. I suppose that king went hungry till they cooked him some mutton chops." The Good Fairy laughed. Mrs. Minuet laughed, too. She was getting goodnatured-very good-natured for her.

"There's another king, now," remarked the Good Fairy as a fat, jolly-looking man wandered up clad in loose trousers and a smoking-jacket and easy slippers, and with a great crown on his head. "This is Old King Cole. Of course he teaches the virtue of cheerfulness. Nobody ever heard him grumble over anything."

Old King Cole nodded kindly as he passed them, but he did not stop.

Then the Mother Goose folk began to come up in groups. There was Old Mother Hubbard to make children understand that they can't ever be generous even to a dog, unless they take good care to keep something in their own cupboards; and Little Boy Blue to impress on them the danger of going to sleep on your post; and Cinderella, with the Ugly Duckling waddling behind her to show that neither oppressing circumstance nor personal ugliness is a bar to success in life. But I can't begin to tell you all of