The Beacon Second Reader Part 13

As soon as the sun arose he tried the gift by touching the bed lightly with his hand.

The bed turned to gold.

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He touched the chair and table.

Upon the instant they were turned to solid gold.

The king was wild with joy.

He ran around the room, touching everything he could see. His magic gift turned all to s.h.i.+ning, yellow gold.

The king soon felt hungry and went down to eat his breakfast. Now a strange thing happened. When he raised a gla.s.s of clear cold water to drink, it became solid gold.

Not a drop of water could pa.s.s his lips.

The bread turned to gold under his fingers.

The meat was hard, and yellow, and s.h.i.+ny.

Not a thing could he get to eat.

All was gold, gold, gold.

His little daughter came running in from the garden.

Of all living creatures she was the dearest to him.

He touched her hair with his lips.

At once the little girl was changed to a golden statue.

A great fear crept into the king's heart, sweeping all the joy out of his life.

In his grief he called and called upon the fairy who had given him the gift of the golden touch.

"O fairy," he begged, "take away this horrible golden gift! Take all my lands. Take all my gold. Take everything, only give me back my little daughter."

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In a moment the beautiful fairy was standing before him.

"Do you still think that gold is the greatest thing in the world?" asked the fairy.

"No! no!" cried the king. "I hate the very sight of the yellow stuff."

"Are you sure that you no longer wish the golden touch?" asked the fairy.

"I have learned my lesson," said the king. "I no longer think gold the greatest thing in the world."

"Very well," said the fairy, "take this pitcher to the spring in the garden and fill it with water. Then sprinkle those things which you have touched and turned to gold."

The king took the pitcher and rushed to the spring. Running back, he first sprinkled the head of his dear little girl. Instantly she became his own darling Marigold again, and gave him a kiss.

The king sprinkled the golden food, and to his great joy it turned back to real bread and real b.u.t.ter.

Then he and his little daughter sat down to breakfast. How good the cold water tasted. How eagerly the hungry king ate the bread and b.u.t.ter, the meat, and all the good food.

The king hated his golden touch so much that he sprinkled even the chairs and the tables and everything else that the fairy's gift had turned to gold.

_Greek Myth_

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OVER IN THE MEADOW

Over in the meadow, In the sand, in the sun, Lived an old mother toad And her little toadie one.

"Wink!" said the mother; "I wink," said the one; So she winked and she blinked In the sand, in the sun.

Over in the meadow, Where the stream runs blue, Lived an old mother fish And her little fishes two.

"Swim!" said the mother; "We swim," said the two; So they swam and they leaped Where the stream runs blue.

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Over in the meadow, In a hole in a tree, Lived a mother bluebird And her little birdies three.

"Sing!" said the mother; "We sing," said the three; So they sang and were glad In the hole in the tree.

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Over in the meadow, In a snug beehive, Lived a mother honeybee And her little honeys five.

"Buzz!" said the mother; "We buzz," said the five; So they buzzed and they hummed In the snug beehive.

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Over in the meadow, Where the clear pools s.h.i.+ne, Lived a green mother frog, And her little froggies nine.

"Croak!" said the mother; "We croak," said the nine; So they croaked and they splashed Where the clear pools s.h.i.+ne.

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Over in the meadow, In a sly little den, Lived a gray mother spider And her little spiders ten.

"Spin!" said the mother; "We spin," said the ten; So they spun lace webs In their sly little den.

OLIVE A. WADSWORTH