ers came to Giotto and told him their errand. The
Pope, they said, wished to see one of his drawings to judge if he was
fit for the great work. Giotto, who was always most courteous, 'took a
sheet of paper and a pencil dipped in a red colour, then, resting his
elbow on his side, with one turn of the hand, he drew a circle so
perfect and exact that it was a marvel to behold.' 'Here is your
drawing,' he said to the messenger, with a smile, handing him the
drawing.

'Am I to have nothing more than this?' asked the man, staring at the
red circle in astonishment and disgust.

'That is enough and to spare,' answered Giotto. 'Send it with the rest.'

The messengers thought this must all be a joke.

'How foolish we shall look if we take only a round O to show his
Holiness,' they said.

But they could get nothing else from Giotto, so they were obliged to be
content and to send it with the other drawings, taking care to explain
just how it was done.

The Pope and his advisers looked carefully over all the drawings, and,
when they came to that round O, they knew that only a master-hand could
have made such a perfect circle without the help of a compass. Without
a moment's hesitation they decided that Giotto was the man they wanted,
and they at once invited him to come to Rome to decorate the cathedral
walls. So when the story was known the people became prouder than ever
of their great painter, and the round O of Giotto has become a proverb
to this day in Tuscany.

'Round as the O of Giotto, d' ye see;
Which means as well done as a thing can be.'

Later on, when Giotto was at Naples, he was painting in the palace
chapel one very hot day, when the king came in to watch him at his
work. It really was almost too hot to move, and yet Giotto painted away
busily.

'Giotto,' said the king, 'if I were in thy place I would give up
painting for a while and take my rest, now that it is so hot.'

'And, indeed, so I would most certainly do,' answered Giotto, 'if I
were in your place, your Majesty.'

It was these quick answers and his merry smile that charmed every one,
and made the painter a favourite with rich and poor alike.

There are a great many stories told of him, and they all show what a
sunny-tempered, kindly man he was.

It is said that one day he was standing in one of the narrow streets of
Florence talking very earnestly to a friend, when a pig came running
down the road in a great hurry. It did not sto