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Zelia and Prince Cherry fell at the fairy's feet。 But with a beautiful smile she bade them come to their kingdom。 In a trice； they were transported to the Prince's palace； where King Suliman greeted them with tears of joy。 He gave back the throne； with all his heart； and King Cherry ruled again； with Zelia for his queen。
He wore the little gold ring all the rest of his life； but never once did it have to prick him hard enough to make his finger bleed。
THE GOLD IN THE ORCHARD＇1＇
＇1＇ An Italian folk tale。
There was once a farmer who had a fine olive orchard。 He was very industrious； and the farm always prospered under his care。 But he knew that his three sons despised the farm work； and were eager to make wealth fast； through adventure。
When the farmer was old； and felt that his time had come to die； he called the three sons to him and said； 〃My sons； there is a pot of gold hidden in the olive orchard。 Dig for it； if you wish it。〃
The sons tried to get him to tell them in what part of the orchard the gold was hidden； but he would tell them nothing more。
After the farmer was dead； the sons went to work to find the pot of gold； since they did not know where the hiding…place was； they agreed to begin in a line； at one end of the orchard； and to dig until one of them should find the money。
They dug until they had turned up the soil from one end of the orchard to the other； round the tree…roots and between them。 But no pot of gold was to be found。 It seemed as if some one must have stolen it； or as if the farmer had been wandering in his wits。 The three sons were bitterly disappointed to have all their work for nothing。
The next olive season； the olive trees in the orchard bore more fruit than they had ever given； the fine cultivating they had had from the digging brought so much fruit； and of so fine a quality； that when it was sold it gave the sons a whole pot of gold！
And when they saw how much money had come from the orchard； they suddenly understood what the wise father had meant when he said； 〃There is gold hidden in the orchard； dig for it。〃
MARGARET OF NEW ORLEANS
If you ever go to the beautiful city of New Orleans； somebody will be sure to take you down into the old business part of the city； where there are banks and shops and hotels； and show you a statue which stands in a little square there。 It is the statue of a woman； sitting in a low chair； with her arms around a child； who leans against her。 The woman is not at all pretty： she wears thick； common shoes； a plain dress； with a little shawl； and a sun…bonnet； she is stout and short； and her face is a square…chinned Irish face； but her eyes look at you like your mother's。
Now there is something very surprising about this statue： it was the first one that was ever made in this country in honor of a woman。 Even in old Europe there are not many monuments to women； and most of the few are to great queens or princesses； very beautiful and very richly dressed。 You see； this statue in New Orleans is not quite like anything else。
It is the statue of a woman named Margaret。 Her whole name was Margaret Haughery； but no one in New Orleans remembers her by it； any more than you think of your dearest sister by her full name； she is just Margaret。 This is her story； and it tells why people made a monument for her。
When Margaret was a tiny baby； her father and mother died； and she was adopted by two young people as poor and as kind as her own parents。 She lived with them until she grew up。 Then she married； and had a little baby of her own。 But very soon her husband died； and then the baby died； too； and Margaret was all alone in the world。 She was poor； but she was strong； and knew how to work。
All day； from morning until evening； she ironed clothes in a laundry。 And every day； as she worked by the window； she saw the little motherless children from the orphan asylum； near by； working and playing about。 After a while； there came a great sickness upon the city； and so many mothers and fathers died that there were more orphans than the asylum could possibly take care of。 They needed a good friend； now。 You would hardly think； would you； that a poor woman who worked in a laundry could be much of a friend to them？ But Margaret was。 She went straight to the kind Sisters who had the asylum and told them she was going to give them part of her wages and was going to work for them； besides。 Pretty soon she had worked so hard that she had some money saved from her wages。 With this； she bought two cows and a little delivery cart。 Then she carried her milk to her customers in the little cart every morning； and as she went； she begged the left…over food from the hotels and rich houses； and brought it back in the cart to the hungry children in the asylum。 In the very hardest times that was often all the food the children had。
A part of the money Margaret earned went every week to the asylum； and after a few years that was made very much larger and better。 And Margaret was so careful and so good at business that； in spite of her giving； she bought more cows and earned more money。 With this； she built a home for orphan babies； she called it her baby house。
After a time； Margaret had a chance to get a bakery； and then she became a bread…woman instead of a milk…woman。 She carried the bread just as she had carried the milk； in her cart。 And still she kept giving money to the asylum。 Then the great war came； our Civil War。 In all the trouble and sickness and fear of that time； Margaret drove her cart of bread； and somehow she had always enough to give the starving soldiers； and for her babies； besides what she sold。 And despite all this； she earned enough so that when the war was over she built a big steam factory for her bread。 By this time everybody in the city knew her。 The children all over the city loved her； the business men were proud of her； the poor people all came to her for advice。 She used to sit at the open door of her office； in a calico gown and a little shawl； and give a good word to everybody； rich or poor。
Then； by and by； one day； Margaret died。 And when it was time to read her will； the people found that； with all her giving； she had still saved a great deal of money； and that she had left every cent of it to the different orphan asylums of the city；each one of them was given something。 Whether they were for white children or black； for Jews； Catholics； or Protestants； made no difference； for Margaret always said； 〃They are all orphans alike。〃 And just think； dears； that splendid； wise will was signed with a cross instead of a name； for Margaret had never learned to read or write！
When the people of New Orleans knew that Margaret was dead； they said； 〃She was a mother to the motherless； she was a friend to those who had no friends； she had wisdom greater than schools can teach； we will not let her memory go from us。〃 So they made a statue of her； just as she used to look； sitting in her own office door； or driving in her own little cart。 And there it stands to…day； in memory of the great love and the great power of plain Margaret Haughery； of New Orleans。
THE DAGDA'S HARP＇1＇
＇1＇ The facts from which this story was constructed are found in the legend as given in Ireland's Story； Johnston and Spencer （Houghton； Mifflin； & Co。）。
You know； dears； in the old countries there are many fine stories about things which happened so very long ago that nobody knows exactly how much of them is true。 Ireland is like that。 It is so old that even as long ago as four thousand years it had people who dug in the mines； and knew how to weave cloth and to make beautiful ornaments out of gold； and who could fight and make laws； but we do not know just where they came from； nor exactly how they lived。 These people left us some splendid stories about their kings； their fights； and their beautiful women； but it all happened such a long time ago that the stories are mixtures of things that really happened and what people said about them； and we don't know just which is which。 The stories are called LEGENDS。 One of the prettiest legends is the story I am going to tell you about the Dagda's harp。
It is said that there were two quite different kinds of people in Ireland： one set of people with long dark hair and dark eyes； called Fomoriansthey carried long slender spears made of golden bronze when they foughtand another race of people who were golden…haired and blue… eyed； and who carried short； blunt； heavy spears of dull metal。
The golden…haired people had a great chieftain who was also a kind of high priest； who was called the Dagda。 And this Dagda had a wonderful magic harp。 The harp was beautiful to look upon； mighty in size； made of rare wood； and ornamented with gold and jewels； and it had wonderful music in its strings； which only the Dagda could call out。 When the men were going out to battle； the Dagda would set up his magic harp and sweep his hand across the strings； and a war song would ring out which would make every warrior buckle on his armor； brace his knees； and shout； 〃Forth to the fight！〃 Then； when the men came back from the battle； weary and wounded； the Dagda