the odd procession; for as the tall white girl and the little blue
one, with the brown young man, reached the last step of the steep mule
path, a tidal wave of children swept down upon them, out from the
mystery of dark tunnelled streets.

Such eyes were never seen as those that gleamed at the new comers, great
with surprise and wonder; eyes of brown velvet with diamonds shining
through; eyes like black wells, with mirrored stars in their unfathomed
depths; eyes of wild deer; eyes of fierce Saracens; eyes of baby saints,
all set in small bronze faces clear-cut as the profiles on ancient Roman
coins.

"Bella Madonna, bella Madonna!" piped a tiny voice, and forty other
voices caught up the adoring cry.

The brown children of the old rock village had poured down from their
high eyrie to bombard the strangers from the world below; to stare, to
beg, to laugh, to lisp out strange epithets in their crude _patois_; but
at sight of the wonderful white lady and her gold-haired child they
crowded back upon each other, hushed after their first cry into awed
admiration for visitants from another world.

Few tourists climbed to their dark fastness, and of those who came none
had ever shone with such blinding radiance of white and gold.

It was certain that the lovely lady was none other than the Madonna
herself, and the child she had brought was some baby angel. The man
alone was mortal. He had perhaps been bidden to show la bella Madonna
the way to Eze.

Rosemary, shy but happy, began giving out the toys, diving with both
hands at once into the baskets which the fairy father held. Trumpets,
bags of marbles, tops and furry animals for the boys, according to their
age; (oh, Rosemary was a good judge, and never hesitated once!) Dolls
for the girls, dolls by the dozen, dolls by the legion; and sweets for
all.

As the amazed children received their gifts, they fell respectfully
back, as if they had received an order to give place to their
companions, and others came forward, open mouthed, large eyed, ready to
fall upon their knees if but one of their number should set an example.

Still there were toys left, toys in abundance; the wondrous benefactors
passed slowly on, always going up, up into the huddled village
streets--tunnelled in rock or arched with stone, where eager, astonished
faces peered from the mystery of shadowed doorways, and the hum of joy
and admiration swelled to a sound like the murmur of the sea.

Of grown f