Once there came to the land of the Every-day a messenger from the King. In his hand he carried glasses to help him in the search which he was making. Under his arm he was carrying a scroll. On his face there was a look of deep concern.

How could he ever find the most beautiful thing in all the world? There were so many beautiful things that he had no idea even where to begin. Yet this was his commission: “Of all the beautiful things, choose for me the most beautiful.”

So the messenger called for heralds and sent them forth to ask of the people of the Every-day their help in choosing for the King.

“Bring to me your most beautiful thing,” he said. “Then I will choose from these things what I deem most beautiful.”

And one brought a wonderful gem. It was clear as crystal; it sparkled in the light and seemed to beg to be chosen. The rays of the noonday sun shone through the stone and all the people cried with one voice:

“How beautiful! How wonderful! We have never seen the like!”

“Surely,” thought the messenger, “I shall never find anything so rare as this. I will take it to the King.”

But a voice cried: “Wait, oh, messenger, wait! That which is dead can never be the most beautiful thing. Surely I have here that which far exceeds the stone which you have seen. I beg you look at this.” 139

Then he opened the cover of the great box that he carried.

In a bed of shimmering white there lay a beautiful rose. Its leaves were still wet with the dew of the garden. Its petals were as perfect as perfect could be. Then as the sun shone into the box, the exquisite rose caught also the rays of the sun and slowly the beautiful petals began to unfold.

There was silence in the group of people about the box. What a wonderful thing the man had brought to the messenger! It had beauty, but it had also life.

Yet even as they looked there came another. By his side walked a great dog. His hair was like silk; his eyes were tender as a child’s; his face was as knowing as a person’s. Quietly his owner brought him forward, saying: “This is to me far more beautiful than the rose. This has beauty and life, but it has also usefulness. It has saved the lives of many.”

And he patted the head of the faithful animal.

Then a mother pressed through the crowd and said: “Surely no animal is so beautiful as a child. See! here is my little one. She has beauty and life and usefulness—and she has also the magic beauty of innocence. See her hands, and her little feet, and her golden curls. I am sure there is no more beautiful thing in all the world than my baby.”

Then the messenger sighed. What could he do? He just could not find the thing that the King had asked him to find. All were so beautiful. Thinking to be by himself, he walked away. Into a path alone by himself he went.

Then he heard voices, and, brushing aside the branches, he saw a young maiden who played with a little child. Her touch was very tender as she played the childish game. And when they had finished, the messenger held 140 his breath, for the child had thrown a tiny arm about her neck and the yellow curls of the baby were close to the brown ones of the maiden. And the maiden’s face was wreathed in a wondrous smile.

“That is beauty,” said the messenger. “That is rare beauty. But why is she so beautiful? I must see.”

Quickly he unfastened the glasses from their case and turned them to the picture before him. Then, because they were magic glasses used only by the King, he could see why she was beautiful.

In her mind he found clean thoughts; in her life he found kind deeds; in her soul he found a high ideal; in her heart he found a mother-love for little children.

Then the messenger took from his arm the scroll which he carried and with his stylus he wrote these words:

“In all the world I find no more beautiful thing than a maiden who is reaching toward life’s highest goal—a noble womanhood—with love to show her the way.”