Pleasures of the eye and ear, of the imagination and memory, are those most easily objectified, and form the groundwork on which all higher beauty rests.  The green of the spring, the odor of Red Riding Hood’s flowers, the splendor of the Prince’s ball in Cinderella—­these when perceived distinctly are intelligible, and when perceived delightfully are beautiful.  Language is a kind of music, too; the mode of speaking, the sound of letters, the inflection of the voice—­all are elements of beauty.  But this material beauty is tied up in close association with things “eye hath not seen nor ear heard,” the moral beauty of the good and the message of the true.  The industry of the little Elves reflects the worth of honest effort of the two aged peasants, and the dance of the Goat and seven Kids reflects the triumph of mother wit and the sharpness of love.  The good, the true, and the beautiful are inseparably linked in the tale, just as they forever grow together in the life of the child.  The tales differ largely in the element of beauty they present.  Among those conspicuous for beauty may be mentioned Andersen’s Thumbelina; the Indian How the Sun, the Moon, and West Wind Went Out to Dinner; the Japanese Mezumi, the Beautiful; and the English Robin’s Christmas Song.  Little Two-Eyes stands out as one containing a large element of beauty, and Oeyvind and Marit represents in an ideal way the possible union of the good, the true, and the beautiful.  This union of the good, the true, and the beautiful has been expressed by an old Persian legend:  “In the midst of the light is the beautiful, in the midst of the beautiful is the good, in the midst of the good is God, the Eternal One.”

Wonder, mystery, magic.  The spirit of wonder, like a will-o’-the-wisp, leads on through a fairy tale, enticing the child who follows, knowing that something will happen, and wondering what.  When magic comes in he is gratified because some one becomes master of the universe—­Cinderella, when she plants the hazel bough, and later goes to the wishing-tree; the fairy godmother, when with her wand she transforms a pumpkin to a gilded coach and six mice to beautiful gray horses; Little Two-Eyes, when she says,—­

          Little kid, bleat,
          I wish to eat!

     and immediately her little table set with food so
     marvelously appears; or Hop-o’-my-Thumb when he steps into
     his Seven-League Boots and goes like the wind.

Adventure.  This is a form of curiosity.  In the old tale, as the wood was the place outside the usual habitation, naturally it was the place where things happened.  Often there was a house in the wood, like the one “amidst the forest darkly green,” where Snow White lived with the Dwarfs.  This adventure the little child loves for its own sake.  Later, when he is about eleven or twelve, he loves it for its motive.  This love of adventure is part of