The week of the Flower Festival here in Santa Barbara, where we live,
Harold drove his pony in the parade.

The carriage was all covered with pink roses. There were roses all
over the canopy top, and all over the dashboard, and along the sides,
and up the back, and on the seat where Harold sat. And the pony had a
collar of roses, and the roses were wreathed in the harness and wound
in the wheels.

Harold enjoyed the parade very much, but he never thought of taking a
prize till the money was sent to him. He was as pleased as could be.

"What will you buy with the money, Harold?" I asked.

"Well, you see," said Harold, "the money doesn't really belong to me.
It belongs to the Shetland pony, and I would like to talk about what
would be the nicest thing to do for the pony."

So we all talked about it and decided that the nicest thing we could
do for the pony would be to put a big screen window in the front of
his stall, so he would not be troubled with flies.--_Selected_.

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FLO'S VALENTINE


"I wonder where I'd better send