n he raised a glass of clear cold water to
drink, it became solid gold.

Not a drop of water could pass his lips.

The bread turned to gold under his fingers.

The meat was hard, and yellow, and shiny.

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."

[Illustration]

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 butter.

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 butter, 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_

[Illustration]

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 fishe