_ has long been a favorite.

THE APPLE OF DISCORD

R. E. FRANCILLON

Never was such a wedding-feast known as that of Peleus and Thetis. And
no wonder; for Peleus was King of Thessaly, and Thetis was a
goddess--the goddess who keeps the gates of the West, and throws them
open for the chariot of the Sun to pass through when its day's journey
is done.

Not only all the neighboring kings and queens came to the feast, but the
gods and goddesses besides, bringing splendid presents to the bride and
bridegroom. Only one goddess was not there, because she had not been
invited; and she had not been invited for the best of all reasons. Her
name was Ate, which means Mischief; and wherever she went she caused
quarreling and confusion. Jupiter had turned her out of heaven for
setting even the gods by the ears; and ever since then she had been
wandering about the earth, making mischief, for they would not have her
even in Hades.

"So they won't have _Me_ at their feast!" she said to herself, when she
heard the sound of the merriment to which she had not been bidden. "Very
well; they shall be sorry. I see a way to make a bigger piece of
mischief than ever was known."

So she took a golden apple, wrote some words upon it, and, keeping
herself out of sight, threw it into the very middle of the feasters,
just when they were most merry.

Nobody saw where the apple came from; but of course they supposed it had
been thrown among them for frolic; and one of the guests, taking it up,
read aloud the words written on it. The words were:

"FOR THE MOST BEAUTIFUL!"

--nothing more.

"What a handsome present somebody has sent me!" said Juno, holding out
her hand for the apple.

"Sent _you_?" asked Diana. "What an odd mistake, to be sure! Don't you
see it is for the most beautiful? I will thank you to hand me what is so
clearly intended for _Me_."

"You seem to forget _I_ am present!" said Vesta, making a snatch at the
apple.

"Not at all!" said Ceres; "only I happen to be here, too. And who doubts
that where I am there is the most beautiful?"

"Except where _I_ am," said Proserpine.

"What folly is all this!" said Minerva, the wise. "Wisdom is the only
true beauty; and everybody knows that I am the wisest of you all."

"But it's for the _most_ beautiful!" said Venus. "The idea of its being
for anybody but _Me_!"

Then every nymph and goddess present, and even every woman, put in her
claim, unt