Auntie Sue watched Jeanne as she skipped along to school. There could not possibly have been a happier skip. There could not possibly have been a happier little face than the one Auntie Sue had just kissed.

But yet as Jeanne turned the corner, Auntie Sue felt something sad inside of her.

Something said to her, "She is not really happy. Other children are happy, but Jeanne is not a child. She is a puppet—a puppet."

Suzanne rushed into the shop and tried to shut out those thoughts. And Jeanne skipped along to school.

Strange to say, Jeanne was thinking of puppets, too. But she was not thinking of them in the same way as was Auntie Sue.

She was thinking of the puppet show in the park. This puppet show is called a Guignol (gen´-yol) in France and the park where it is played is the Champs ElysÉes.

On nearly every corner of this beautiful park is a Guignol. Where there is no Guignol, there is a swing, or there are donkeys to ride or goat carts. Children are amused in Paris.

Jeanne often passed the park, but the amusements there were not for her. Jeanne had no time for Guignols and donkeys and goat carts. Jeanne had to go to school and from school to help Auntie in the shop.

The donkeys and swings and other amusements did not attract Jeanne so much. But oh, how she loved the Guignol! Very often she would stop outside the tall gates and watch for ever so short a time.

And when the children cried out, "There he is! There he is!" as they do when the wicked policeman pops up his puppet head, Jeanne would shout with them.

She loved those silly little puppets. She knew them all just by passing them each day.There was Guignol, the bad boy. He was the one all the children loved. There was the policeman; and how they hated him! There was a funny lady with a wobbly hat, which was always knocked off; and her hair would all fall down.

There were others. There was a pale, very pale boy they called Pierrot (pye-ro´) which, in French, means "clown."

Jeanne felt sorry for him because he was very old and paintless and torn. They never gave him a fresh coat of paint nor mended his suit. Poor Pierrot!

Jeanne knew those stories by heart, too. There was the story of the milkman. The bad boy drinks all the milkman's milk, while sending him on useless errands.

There was "The Mattress," the story in which Guignol has a dream right up on the tiny stage. Guignol, by the way, is just like our American Punch, a puppet of the Punch and Judy show.

There were a few other stories, but they were always the same. Jeanne thought of many new stories. She wondered why the children didn't grow tired of having the same stories all the time. Jeanne could make up others—and she did—while she skipped to school. She made them up while she walked about the shop showing Auntie's little models.To-day was a very fine day. When school was over, Jeanne found a group of children in bright-colored clothes, watching the Guignol. How sweet and pretty they looked sitting under the trees in their dainty clothes!

Jeanne leaned against a tree. It was early yet. She might watch one Guignol play.

The play was "The Thief." Guignol gives a lady a rose. She puts it in her hair under the large, floppy hat.

Then Guignol dances for her. It is a clumsy dance, and he trips. The children laugh. He gallops clumsily off the stage. Pierrot tiptoes in from the other side.

Jeanne leans forward eagerly. Has Pierrot a new suit, new paint? No, he is shabby and pale. Ah, poor Pierrot! But he dances on tiptoes, so light is he.

His dance is elfin and gay. The lady watches. She is enchanted. Pierrot flits about the stage. Then, when his dance is at an end, he snatches the rose from the lady's hair. The lady's wobbly hat falls off. The lady's wobbly hair falls down. She is a sorry sight.

But who is that entering on the side? It is Guignol! He marches up to Pierrot, and there is a fight. The children scream. The children cry out. Pierrot is losing.

"Ah, Guignol! Guignol!" the children cry.

Their hero is winning.Pierrot is thrown, and he lands far away from the stage. He lands on the ground, but the children do not mind.

They are all absorbed in Guignol—their Guignol. He is kissing the lady now.

But not for long are they happy. The alligator comes gliding upon the stage. There is another battle, and Guignol vanquishes the alligator.

Then indeed is Guignol a hero. The curtain falls to the pleased applause of the young audience.

Only Jeanne has noticed Pierrot. He lies in a heap on the ground. Nobody has come to fetch him.

Time goes on, and as the sun sinks lower, more and more children leave the park. The Guignol plays are over for the day. The men who make them are packing to go.

Now everyone is gone but Jeanne. Jeanne and the Pierrot are alone. The little girl goes up to the puppet.

"They have forgotten you, Pierrot," she says softly, "but maybe they do not care."

Then Jeanne sits down on a bench with Pierrot in her arms.

"But come, come. You must not mind, Pierrot, if they do not love you. You must not mind if they throw you aside and clap for Guignol. See! I love you very much. And even if you do wear shabby clothes and your paint is dull, that does not matter."Jeanne rocks the Pierrot. It grows dark in the Champs ElysÉes.

"You must not mind. See, Pierrot!" she says. "See my dress and coat and cap? They are as shabby as yours. But I do not mind. You see, we are both the same. But I feel sorry because you do not dance more and because you are never the hero of the plays. Guignol is an awkward, clumsy fellow. It is you who are my hero, Pierrot."

As she talks, Jeanne's voice grows soft and drowsy. Jeanne's head nods, and her eyes close. A soft breeze begins to stir in the trees. Jeanne is asleep.