purpose, joined him. They came back with
handkerchiefs tied full of tiny, wriggling, fluttering green creatures.

In a few moments, the five women sat crowned with carcanets of living
fire.

"Now read us a story," Lulu begged.

Pete drew a little book from his pocket. Discolored and swollen, the
print was big and still black.

"'Once upon a time,'" he began, "'there was a little girl who lived with
her father and her stepmother--'"

"What's 'stepmother'?" Lulu asked.

Pete explained.

"The stepmother had two daughters, and all three of these women were
cruel and proud----'"

"What's 'cruel and proud'?" Chiquita asked.

Pete explained.

"'And so between the three the little girl had a very hard time. She
worked like a slave all day long, and was never allowed to go out of the
kitchen. The stepmother and the proud sisters, used to go to balls every
night, leaving the little girl alone. Because she was always so dusty
and grimy from working over the fire, they called her Cinderella.
Now, it happened that the country was ruled by a very handsome young
prince--'"

"What's 'handsome young prince'?" Clara asked.

Pete explained.

"'And all the ladies of the kingdom were in love with him.'"

"What's 'in love'?" Peachy asked.

Pete closed the book.

"Ah, that's a question," he said after an instant of meditation, "that
will admit of some answer. Say, you fellers, you'd better come into
this."

D.

Moonlight on Angel Island.

The sea lay like a carpet of silver stretched taut from the white line
of the waves to the black seam of the sky. The land lay like a crumpled
mass of silver velvet, heaped to tinselled brightness here, hollowed to
velvety shadow there. Over both arched the mammoth silver tent of the
sky. In the cleft in the rock on the southern reef sat Julia and Billy.
Under a tree at the north sat Peachy and Ralph. Scattered in shaded
places between sat the others. The night was quiet; but on the breeze
came murmurs sometimes in the man's voice, sometimes in the woman's.
Fragmentary they were, these murmurs, and inarticulate; but their
composite was ever the same.

E.

Sunrise on Angel Island.

In and out among the trees, wound a procession following the northern
trail. First came Lulu, white-clad, serious, pale, walking with Honey.
The others, crowned with flowers and carrying garlands, followed,
serious and silent, the women clinging with both hands to the men, who
supported thei