opportunely arrived, and stated calmly, "I will not let you
kill Little Red Riding Hood."

All was now happily culminated, and with the chopper's grave injunction as
to future conduct in her ears, the rescued heroine tiptoed out of the
woods, to her seat.

I wanted to applaud, but I realised in the nick of time that we were all
playing, and held my peace.

[Illustration: HIAWATHA PICTURES]

_The Fox and the Grapes_ was more dramatically done, but was given by a
single child. He was the chosen "fox" of another primary room, and had the
fair colouring and sturdy frame which matched his Swedish name. He was
naturally dramatic. It was easy to see that he instinctively visualised
everything, and this he did so strongly that he suggested to the
onlooker every detail of the scene.

He chose for his grape-trellis the rear wall of the room.

Standing there, he looked longingly up at the invisible bunch of grapes.
"My gracious," he said, "what fine grapes! I will have some."

Then he jumped for them.

"Didn't get them," he muttered, "I'll try again," and he jumped higher.

"Didn't get them this time," he said disgustedly, and hopped up once more.
Then he stood still, looked up, shrugged his shoulders, and remarked in an
absurdly worldly-wise tone, "Those grapes are sour!" After which he walked
away.

Of course the whole thing was infantile, and without a touch of grace; but
it is no exaggeration to say that the child did what many grown-up actors
fail to do,--he preserved the illusion.

It was in still another room that I saw the lion and mouse fable played.

The lion lay flat on the floor for his nap, but started up when he found
his paw laid on the little mouse, who crouched as small as she could
beside him. (The mouse was by nature rather larger than the lion, but she
called what art she might to her assistance.) The mouse persuaded the
lion to lift his paw, and ran away.

Presently a most horrific groaning emanated from the lion. The mouse ran
up, looked him over, and soliloquised in precise language,--evidently
remembered, "What is the matter with the lion? Oh, I see; he is caught in
a trap." And then she gnawed with her teeth at the imaginary rope which
bound him.

"What makes you so kind to me, little Mouse?" said the rescued lion.

"You let me go, when I asked you," said the mouse demurely.

"Thank you, little Mouse," answered the lion; and therewith, finis.

It is not impossible that all this play at