acted as if
they were holding it up. They would not have it known that they could
see nothing.

So the Emperor strutted forward in the procession under a splendid
canopy, and the people in the streets and at the windows said, "How
grand are the Emperor's new clothes! What beautiful silk, how it
shines!"

No one would admit that he could see nothing, for that would have
proved him unfit for his office, or stupid. None of the Emperor's
clothes had ever been so praised.

"But the Emperor has nothing on!" said a child at last.

"Listen to the innocent child!" said the father, and each one
whispered to his neighbour what the child had said.

"The Emperor has nothing on!" the people began to call out at last.

This seemed to the Emperor to be true; but he thought to himself, "I
must not stop now." And the courtiers walked behind him with pompous
air, gravely holding up the train which was not there.

_Rhoecus_[21]

FANNY E. COE

Long ago there lived a Grecian youth named Rhoecus. Just outside the
city where Rhoecus dwelt was a wood. This wood was very old. Some
said there were oaks in the forest that had been growing for a
thousand years.

[Footnote 21: Based upon the story of James Russell Lowell's poem of
the same name.]

One day Rhoecus was passing through the wood. Before him he saw a
noble oak about to fall. He ran and propped its mossy trunk with great
branches that he took from the ground.

As he was turning away, he heard a soft voice say, "Rhoecus." There
beside the tree stood a beautiful dryad.

"I am the spirit of this tree," she said. "As long as it lives, I
live. When it falls, I die. You, Rhoecus, have just saved my life.
Ask what you will and it is yours."

Rhoecus gazed at the dryad with wonder and awe. "You are the fairest
being I have ever seen. Give me your love," he cried.

"You shall have it, Rhoecus," replied the dryad sadly. "Meet me
here an hour before the sunset."

With a happy heart and a gay step Rhoecus went on his way to the
town. He had won a most beautiful bride. To celebrate his joy, he
thought he would play a game of dice with his friends.

The game took all his thought, for he was most unlucky. He lost once,
twice, and even a third time. He forgot all about the dryad. The sun
sank lower and lower and still he played on.

At last a bee entered the window and brushed against his forehead.
Rhoecus shook it off. Again and again the bee returned. At last
Rhoecus,