"Yes, she shall go," said the god-mother, as she began to lay the aprons in a little old-fashioned basket.
As soon as the children saw it, they gathered about it like a swarm of bees, exclaiming,—
"See! see! it is Red Riding-Hood's little basket in which she carried the pot of butter. Dear grandma, where did you get it?"
"The excellent old lady whom the wolf ate up was a friend of mine, and after that sad affair I kept it to remember her by, my dears. It is an immorta basket, and all children love it, long to peep into it, and would give much to own it."
"What am I to do?" asked Babie, as the godmother hung the basket on her arm.
"Go to the Royal Park, my dear, where all the young lords and ladies walk; stand by the great fountain, and when any children ask about the basket, tell them they may put in their hands and take what they find for a silver penny. They will gladly pay it, but each must kiss the penny and give it with a kind word, a friendly wish, before they take the pinnies. When all are sold, lay the silver pennies in the sunshine, and whatever hap-
