Another showed the unique residence of the Old Woman who lived in a shoe, with the Old Woman herself standing dejectedly near the gaping opening in the toe.

Others showed certain not easily recognizable ladies and gentlemen: perhaps the parents of Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue and others.

And high above all these homely pictures, which were exaggerated just enough to be really fascinating--like the pictures at the side-show of the circus--fluttered the soft pennons.

The curtains themselves wavered deliciously, so that you could guess something was going on behind them. The music which made your heart tender never ceased to flow from its invisible place.

Closer and closer the children pressed, still scarcely daring to breathe, and feeling certain that their parents would not be much longer withheld from them. They were becoming more and more eager.

Even the little black dog manifested the greatest excitement.

And at last Truth stepped forward purposefully and took her place just in advance of the band of children. She had never seemed more impressive. Her white dress gleamed in the bright light, and the gem in her hair was of every color one could imagine.

She began to speak.

"I very seldom make a speech," she said. "Scarcely once in a hundred years do I make a speech in public. But if you will bear with words for once, instead of deeds--upon my a.s.surance that deeds shall immediately follow--I have this to say to you:

"It is a very great thing when children find their parents again after losing them; but the last good of all, and perhaps the greatest, is when parents find their children whom they have lost.

"You who have a.s.sembled here have found your parents at last. This I know, not because you have come here into their presence--for you must know they are behind yonder painted curtains, which we shall presently lift--but because you have learned to know the need of them, and because you have come in very truth to love them.

"We shall see now if your parents have found you."

The children caught at that saying, which seemed wholly obscure to them, and wondered what meaning could lie behind it. But in the meantime Truth had turned toward the curtains. She gazed at them one after another in an intense manner, and finally she stepped close to the one whereon the likeness of the Old Woman who lived in a shoe was painted.

In a commanding voice she cried out, "Old Woman who lived in a shoe, appear!"

The curtain moved; it was thrust forward a little at one side, and the Old Woman who lived in a shoe stepped out!

To her Truth spoke calmly yet with a certain majesty. "I have come,"

said she, "to restore your children to you, to be yours forever--but on one condition."

The Old Woman lifted her sad eyes and gazed in amazement at Truth. "To think," she blurted out, "that they should have run up against the like of you! How may I have them again to keep? Speak--there's a good soul!"

The reply came in a ringing tone: "You must promise to love your children better than you love yourself."

"I do--oh, I do!" cried the Old Woman, the tears starting to her eyes.

What happened then? At a sign from Truth the children went spinning toward the Old Woman. She drew the curtain out a little so that they could slip into the hidden s.p.a.ce behind it. One after another they eagerly disappeared, and then she followed them.

When they had all disappeared, Truth moved along to the next curtain, on which a portrait of Old Mother Hubbard was painted. She called out commandingly, "Old Mother Hubbard, appear!"

As in the former case, the curtain was pushed out at one side, and you could tell that some one was coming. Old Mother Hubbard appeared!

To her Truth said: "Your greatest unkindness to your son was your unkindness to his dog. If you would have your son again, you must promise to love him better than you love yourself--and I advise you first of all to think kindly of the dog that was his friend."

She had scarcely finished speaking when Old Mother Hubbard cried out in broken tones:

"Give me his dog!"

The little black dog bounded joyously toward her, followed by her son Tom. They were shown into the place behind the curtain. Old Mother Hubbard following them with the greatest haste.

They could be seen no more.

But Truth was already speaking again in clear tones: "Father and mother of Hansel and Grettel, appear!"

And the father and mother of Hansel and Grettel appeared from behind their curtain, and stood hand in hand, with downcast eyes.

Said Truth to them: "The father and mother who would not share their last loaf of bread with their children--nay, who would not deny themselves that their children need not go supperless to bed--deserve not the love of children. They love themselves overmuch. But if at last in your hearts----"

The mother of Hansel and Grettel could not wait for the end of the sentence. She turned stormily to her husband. "It was you who persuaded me to do it--to lose the poor little things," said she.

The father retorted promptly, "It was that you, good wife, might not starve that I consented to lose the children in the wood!"

But Truth interposed: "It is not a time now to fix the blame, but to make amends. Come, mother and father of Hansel and Grettel: can you promise that hereafter you will love your children better than you love yourselves?"

It was the father who replied, speaking in earnest tones: "Gladly shall we deny ourselves hereafter, if need be, that our children may have bread; and in all other ways we shall strive to show them that we love them better than we love ourselves." To which the wife nodded once for each word.

Whereupon Hansel and Grettel ran swiftly to their parents, who made a way for them to pa.s.s behind the curtain, and they all disappeared.

And now Truth was crying out, "Mother of Cinderella, appear!"

Not only Cinderella's mother, but her sisters too (their curiosity aroused to the topmost pitch) appeared before their curtain.

Said Truth, addressing the mother: "She whom the crystal slipper fits--and well do you know her name--will return to you, forgiving and forgetting all, if you will promise to love her better than you love yourself."

"Ah," replied Cinderella's mother, "I've done that this long while, I think--but how was I to let her know? Let her come to me this instant and she shall never have cause to complain again!"

Then Cinderella approached her mother and received a kiss; and then her mother led her solicitously into the s.p.a.ce behind the curtain, the two sisters following with awe-stricken faces.

For the first time now Truth faltered as if she had no heart for the next task she had to perform. She was standing before the curtain on which the likeness of the cruel King John was painted. And at last she cried out:

"John, King of England, appear!"

There was a pause--and then an echo of sound. The curtain trembled; it was pressed forward at one side. Slowly and with awful majesty King John appeared. His crown was on his head, his kingly robe of ermine fell from his shoulders, there was a kingly staff in his hand. His eyes were like a storm-cloud, his brow like thunder.

It was now that Truth spoke more impressively than she had done before, saying,--

"And you--it is true that you were not Prince Arthur's father, but only his guardian. And yet it may be you would atone for your crimes against the poor fatherless prince. Come, Sire--this boy who knew no father save you: if I give him back into your keeping can you promise to love him better than you love yourself?"

The king frowned more darkly. "Better than I love myself!" he said incredulously. "Can a king love any one better than he loves himself?"

Truth continued: "I cannot read the heart of kings. It is for you, Sire, to speak. I know not what a king's highest vision may be; but I know no man should have power over another, save it be the power of self-sacrificing love. I await your answer--and the prince waits."

But the king repeated, musingly and darkly--"Can a king love any one better than he loves himself?"

There was a moment of suspense; and then Truth would have moved on; but at the last instant the king cried out, "Stay a moment--I command you!"

Twice he tried to speak; and then he said: "That little prince, so helpless and beautiful! You need not think that I have not repented me of my sins toward him. In the dark nights the winds have brought me back the echo of his sighs; and by day I have seen in every ray of sunlight the gleam of his hair, and in the blue sky the beaming eyes of him. Perhaps if I might try again, though he stood in my way . . . if you would send him hither . . ."

But he had not promised, and though Prince Arthur waited, ready to go to him, Truth did not give the signal.