the music of a spring robin.

"Come to me," said she; "let me kiss away the stings."

In a very short space the children were soothed, and had forgotten
their trouble. Then they threw their little arms about Goldilocks'
neck, and begged her to stay and play with them.

"Sweet children, it is my mission,--so the stars say,--to travel all
over this world, from north to south. But, for all that, I will frolic
with you till the sun sets."

"Will the sad boy come too?" asked the children.

Goldilocks shook her bright curls. "He is planting a garden," said
she; "no need to ask him; he hears nothing while he is at play, and
his games are as solemn as midnight."

The children made believe that the beautiful Goldilocks, in her
rose-colored dress, with her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great
butterfly, which they were trying to catch. Now here, now there, the
glowing butterfly flitted from flower to flower, leading her followers
a merry chase. Every child thought to seize and hold her, for a kiss.
She laughed; and the breezes danced with her hair, like--

"Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a-Maying."

But before any one had kissed or even touched her, she had
disappeared, leaving the children gazing into the air, and seeking
their late companion with tearful eyes.

Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard, who was still planting
flower-seeds.

"What a miserable game," said Goldilocks; "it is worse than playing
funeral! Who thought you could make flowers grow? Our old nurse said
it was only Demeter, the goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you
have called up a bristling crop of thistles and brambles? On my word,
Despard, it is a pity!"

"Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can make of them. I am doomed to
work, though I don't wish it; and my work is always disagreeable,
though I can't tell why!"

Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly plants with her sweet
breath. By the nodding of the next breeze, they were changed to roses,
violets, and hare-bells.

"It is pleasant to see any thing smile, even a flower," said
Goldilocks, laughing as she spoke.

"I think," replied Despard, "that this is a strange pilgrimage. I
believe our very thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop thinking."

By and by they came to a rude house,--as fine a one, though, as people
in the Silver Age had yet learned how to build. Despard paused, and
knocked gently. "Why linger here?" whispered his sister.

"I k