ery solemn voice, 'Mama! Why do poor
children say the same prayer as I do, "Our Father which art
in Heaven"?' The Queen answered, 'Because He is as much their
Father as He is yours.' Then said the King thoughtfully, 'We
must be brothers.' 'Yes, my darling, they are your brothers,'
answered the Queen. * Bubi's eyes were filled with astonishment,
and, in a choky voice, he asked, 'Then why am I a King and have
everything I want, while they are poor and have nothing?'

The Queen gave him a squeeze, and, kissing him again on his
forehead, said, 'Because you are the eldest brother, which is
what being King really means. * You understand, darling? God
has given you everything in order that your younger brothers
should want for nothing.' 'I never knew this before,' said Bubi,
shaking his head, and, without thinking any more about his
present, he began to say his prayers, as he did every morning;
and, as he prayed, it seemed to him that all the poor little
boys in the kingdom came round him with their hands clasped, and
that he, the eldest brother, spoke for them all when he prayed
'Our Father which art in Heaven.'

King Bubi grew up to be a great ruler. * He always asked God's
help in all he did, and returned thanks for his happiness, ever
saying, speaking for all his subjects, poor and rich, good and
bad, 'Our Father which art in Heaven'; and when he died, a very
old man, and his good soul arrived at the gates of Heaven, he
knelt down and prayed as usual, 'Our Father.' And, as he prayed,
the gates were opened wide by thousands of poor little children
to whom he had been King, that is to say, eldest brother here on
earth.

[Illustration: The dreadful Don Pedro]

[Silhouette]

P.S.

The Spanish story which was written, once upon a time, to amuse
a real little boy King, ends here; but I cannot help adding that
it does seem a pity not to try and get Perez the Mouse to come
to England. * The only way to manage this will be to take
great pains over your copies and spelling, so that when your
first tooth comes out you will be able to write a nice, tidy,
polite letter to him. If you put it under your pillow at night I
am nearly sure you will find it gone and a present in its place
in the morning. Perhaps you may even feel the same little soft
tickle on your forehead that King Bubi did; but I do not promise
for certain that you will see kind Mr. Mouse, because he is
rather shy.

A.M.M.

[Sil