of maidens, and Ladronius was so overcome by her fresh, girlish beauty, that he could hardly find voice enough to reply to the king’s questions.  The king rose and embraced his daughter, and then, addressing Ladronius before the assembled courtiers, he said, “Ladronius, the Egyptians are the most cunning of all nations on the face of the earth, and you have proved yourself more cunning than all the Egyptians.  And now, after robbing me of so many treasures, you are about to rob me of the best and most priceless of all.”

So saying, he took his daughter by the hand, and led her to Ladronius.

“Take her, my son!” he said.  “A good and obedient daughter should make a faithful and loving wife.”

The princess stood with her eyes cast down, blushing very prettily, and Ladronius looked very handsome as he knelt and kissed her hand.  Then the trumpets began to blare, the drums rattled, the cymbals clashed, and the courtiers shouted, “Long live our gracious princess!  Long live Rhampsinitus and his son-in-law Ladronius!” The royal minstrel brought his harp and sang a solemn chant, all about the beauty of the princess and the bravery of Ladronius; and the maids of honor performed a graceful dance to the music, winding wreaths of lotus flowers about the bride and bridegroom.  As the music ceased, the venerable High Priest of Ra, a tall old man with his head clean-shaven, came forward to bless and anoint them, and to tell how he had foreseen it all from the beginning.

So Ladronius and the beautiful princess were married, and, though it is not in the story, there can be no doubt that they lived very happily for the rest of their lives.

ARION AND THE DOLPHIN

Retold by G. H. Boden and W. Barrington d’Almeida

It happened once upon a time, in the olden days, that a young man, Periander of Corinth, started from a port in the south of Greece to sail to Miletus.  Being caught in a storm, the boat was carried out of her course as far as the island of Lesbos, where she stayed for several days, in order that the damage caused by the storm might be repaired.  In the mean time Periander landed, and occupied himself in wandering about the island and watching the inhabitants.  In his wanderings, he came one evening upon a group of men and women, the sight of whom made him pause with a longing to join them.  They had been working hard all day, gathering the grapes, and pressing them in big, wooden vats, to extract the wine for which Lesbos was famous; and now, in the beautiful autumn evening, they were making merry after their labors.

No wonder Periander stayed to watch them, for they made a very pretty picture,—­the handsome youths, with their bronzed faces and strong, fine limbs; the women with their gay dresses and bare feet, that seemed to have been made for dancing; the vine-clad hill at the back, and, over it all, the glow of the setting sun.  In the centre of the dancers sat a boy, playing upon a small lute with seven strings.  To this accompaniment the dancers chanted a song in praise of Dionysus, the god of the vine.  Gradually the music went faster and faster; and faster and faster the feet of the dancers sped over the ground, until they were all out of breath, and lay laughing on the grass.