"I shall not follow your example," observed Euphrosyne, "I don't at all like that notion of the necessity of envy to make the beauty's joy complete. Besides, I'm not at all sure beauty is not much more charming in idea than in possession. Nobody spends their lives in entering a ball-room, and one gets sadly tired of one's own face. I'm sure I do, beautiful as it is;" and as she spoke the Fairy stooped over a clear tide pool which mirrored her lovely countenance; "and yet look what a nose I have! It is absolutely exquisite! And this hair!" and she held up her long silken curling tresses and looked at them reflected in the water as she spoke. A musical laugh rang through the fairy group. Euphrosyne resumed her seat. "There isn't a mortal damsel in the world who would not go into raptures to resemble me," pursued she, "and yet—but, oh dear, I am getting quite prosy, and it is quite useless, for Ianthe has decided. I, on the contrary, am thinking of something far less romantic and interesting, but I suspect far more necessary to the happiness of mortals than beauty—I mean RICHES."

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