Before long the children were arguing about what game they should play.  Then Rose, who was the eldest, remembered her duty to the visitor.

“What would you like to play, Avis?” she said.

“I’d like to play whatever the rest of you like,” said Avis with her bright smile.

After that the princesses were ashamed to argue about it.  They agreed to let Mignon, the smallest of them, choose.  She chose Ring-around-a-rosy, and they all played, and had a great deal of fun.

When the queen came in for a few minutes Avis remembered to draw up the best chair, and place a footstool for her feet.

All day Avis was so sweet and good-natured that the princesses quite hated to part with her.  They said good-night, when she went, urging her to come soon again.

“How does Avis learn to be polite?” Rose asked the queen that night.  “She is only a poor woodcutter’s daughter, and lives in a weed cottage.  But she has better manners than we, who live in the palace.”

“Why, my child, you have forgotten what politeness is.  Mignon, my little one, I just taught you yesterday, stand forth and tell your sisters.”

So Mignonette put her hands behind her, and chanted: 

     “Politeness is to do, and say
     The kindest thing, in the kindest way.”

“There, children,” said the queen, “you see how it is.  Politeness comes from a kind heart, and it makes a child lovely, and beloved, whether she lives in the hut or the palace.”

THE VALLEY OF GRUMP.

By Margaret Colton.

     The Valley of Grump is a sad, sad place,
       And a dangerous pitfall, too,
     So easy it seems to slip into its depths—­
       And some of the little folks do! 
     Oh, I’m sorry for them when I witness their woe,
       Their faces all wrinkle and twist about so;
     And to their assistance I gladly would go—­
       But I dread the sad Valley of Grump, my dears,
       I dread the sad Valley of Grump!

     The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump;
       The wind always blows from the east;
     The air, I have noticed, is constantly chill,
       And never warms up in the least. 
     As every one weeps, there are tears all the day;
       And when people are cross, they have little to say;
     And when faces are ugly, they look t’other way—­
       So beware of the Valley of Grump, my dears,
       Beware of the Valley of Grump!

[Illustration:  The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump]

     Yet sometimes they speak in the Valley of Grump,
       And their language, I’m told, is a whine—­
     You may have been troubled by sound of that speech,
       But I hope that fate won’t be mine. 
     And sometimes, from down in the depths of the vale,
     The whine rises up in a terrible wail;
     And the people who hear are like to turn pale,
       And flee from the Valley of Grump, my dears,
       Far away from the Valley of Grump!