news,” said another. “All the flax-people are asked to give their dresses to help in clearing the plain for a palace and a garden where kings may dwell—not kings of earth and of little cities, but kings of wisdom whom nature loves to obey, and we among her children.”

“Body after body have I grown,” said the other. “I have struggled and striven to grow useful in this glorious brotherhood of nature, and my only success seems to be that I have a pretty head. It is good to be beautiful, perhaps, but I have always thought that I would sacrifice my beauty for a chance of sharing in noble deeds.”

A butterfly that had stopped to listen now spoke to her:

“You have waited and now you will have your reward. For surely your body will be taken to help in the work that is going forward. The flax-people have indeed lived to good purpose.”

“They certainly do not seem afraid to die,” said the boy to himself.

And as if in answer to his whispered thought the little flax-fairy said:

“Of course we are not afraid! I have been told that there are giants of men who really think that when they leave their worn-out stalks—bodies they call them—behind, they live no more, or at least are not sure what becomes of themselves. But it cannot be true—it must be a fairy story!” laughed the little elf. “They must know, as we know, that all things sleep awhile and then take new bodies like dresses woven while they worked in their last awaking which men call life. And then one day we know that we shall have woven dresses so fine that we shall be free to leave them as the butterfly leaves his dull-hued robes and spreads his bright wings for flight into the grand unknown which we all long to know.”

“But how do you know that these things are so?” asked the boy.

“How do I know that I am alive?” answered the flax-fairy in a murmur. Fainter grew the voices and the vision faded from the boy’s sight.

He knew not how long it was he stayed there, but after awhile he awoke with a start to find that Eline was no longer with him, and that he had slept among the flax in the sunshine.

IX

“It must have been a dream!” he said. But he did not believe it was a dream—for all his words. And really the flowers seemed to him to bear a new life after that wonderful vision which came to him when Eline gave him for an hour the seeing eye.

Working with the others joyfully and happily without a moment’s pause or one thought of failure, they saw quickly growing an immense heap of beautiful fine white thread. The children had helped the flax to grow and now in turn it aided them to clear more ground.

For in no long time all was finished and before them they had a mighty rope growing greater every day under their Leader’s eye.

One strange thing there was about the rope. For there were golden threads interwoven which the children did not remember having seen among the flax. And they wondered.

But Eline only said “It is golden flax.”

Whatever it was, it shone brightly in the sun until it looked like a ray of real sunlight in the rope.

MAKING ROPE

One little child said:

“It looks like a brother to the sun!”

“Perhaps it is,” said Eline, and smiled.

The work grew apace. And the play grew apace, because the children scarcely knew which was work and which was play. They seemed to have found something better than both. Stone after stone, rock after rock, was encircled with the cord and triumphantly drawn by that merry army of children to the edge of the plain. Clearer and clearer grew the space. Where before the stones had been, little pools of water formed, while round them grew masses of beautiful flowers, among which was a new crop of the little blue flax, stronger and better grown than any that had been there before. Gradually there grew up a great wall of rock around the plain where the boulders were drawn by the children, for each was taken to its nearest boundary, as Eline told them this would be the simplest way to clear the plain.

Some mighty rocks yet remained in the center of the plain but the children had so seen the wisdom of their Leader that they doubted not that these too would be removed without difficulty, although how this was to be done they could not tell.

And as the work was nearing an end they did as their Leader bid them in perfect trust. Actually they put their ropes around a rock which some said was like a small mountain. They pulled with a will, but the rock moved not.

Still they pulled willingly and with all their might, for now they had grown strong until they scarcely knew their own powers.

From the great city, from the mountains, and from the country round about, came sightseers and inquirers. At first they only laughed and talked, and helped not at all. But among them came men of strange countenance, strong men, wise in looks, men of kingly bearing.

CLEARING THE PLAIN

These said: “It is not right that these children should work for ever alone.”

And they too, with strong grip of a strange sort, laid hold of the golden ropes, seeing which, the idlers too came and helped until with a mighty song of joy the children saw the great rock move, slowly at first, then faster, faster, until with a run they had placed it in a far corner of the great plain, standing like a sentinel to the North.

X

Another and yet others followed. East and South and West the unhewn boulders stood like guardians of the plain. A circle of twelve yet remained in the center, like giant pillars supporting the sky. But these Eline said should stand, as also some smaller ones which were placed across their tops like great beams resting upon a doorway. How this was done I cannot say; but there is a saying in the city that, in the night before they were found placed high above the giant circle, the sound of a great and joyous song, a hymn of power, was heard like the tones of a great bell shaking the houses with its vibrations and putting men in fear of the destruction of their city. But at sunset the children had not returned from the plain, so that they were not in the city when this happened. And not until the sunrise did the people flock to the doors and windows for a glimpse of the joyous army that marched in their streets. Led by the men of kingly bearing the children marched, singing a song of triumph, with such shining glory in their faces that all the people marveled.

Tired they were, and slept; but when in the late noontide the people asked them what had happened, all seemed like the forgotten glory of a dream. They could remember little except that they were filled with the