down into the seat beside her, and Snow White went on
eating her apple, because, of course, the play had to go on.

"It's only make-believe, dear," whispered Mother, smoothing Sunny
Boy's tousled hair. "You know she won't really die."

Sunny Boy smiled, a faint little smile.

"I guess I forgot it wasn't real," he said sheepishly. "Anyway, the
little girl from Georgia is crying. I guess she forgot, too."

The little girl from Georgia was crying, the big tears rolling slowly
and silently down her cheeks. Many of the children all over the house
were crying, or if not actually crying, sniffling a bit. Snow White
had eaten her apple and fallen asleep and the poor little brown dwarfs
came home to find her, as they supposed, dead.

But the third and last act had a happy ending. Snow White came to life
again, and the big curtain came down and the lights flared up to show
a houseful of happy, smiling children being buttoned into coats and
gloves, and having their caps and hats and bonnets put on for them by
mothers and grandmothers and aunts and big sisters.

Sunny Boy walked soberly up the aisle beside his mother, thinking
about a great many things. He thought about the dwarfs, and how he
would like to know some to play with. He thought about the big
theater, and wondered if it was fun to be an actor. And then he
thought what a lot of children had come to see the play, and whether
they all lived in New York. He put this last thought into words.

"Do they all live here?" he asked Mother, who, of course, did not know
what he had been thinking and had to have it explained to her.

"No, I don't suppose they all live here," she said thoughtfully, when
Sunny Boy had told her. "I imagine a great many of these boys and
girls are New Yorkers and live in the houses and apartments we have
seen in the city. Some of them, I am sure, come from the suburban
towns to the matinee, the way the children from Glendale come in to
Centronia when we have a good play at our theaters, you know. And some
of these children you saw this afternoon are like a little boy I
know--they come from other cities on their first visit to New York.
Though not all of them stand up and shout at the stage people, I'm
glad to say."

Sunny Boy snickered.

"Well, next time I won't," he promised. "Won't Daddy laugh when I tell
him? Guess he'll think I never went to the theater."

Daddy did laugh when they told him that night, after they had had
dinner and were