was a Florentine. He was just Giotto, and he
belonged to them all. His brush was the white flag of
truce which made men forget their strife and angry
passions, and turned their thoughts to holier things.

Even the great poet Dante did not scorn to be a
friend of the peasant painter, and we still have the
portrait which Giotto painted of him in an old fresco
at Florence. Later on, when the great poet was a
poor unhappy exile, Giotto met him again at Padua
and helped to cheer some of those sad grey days,
made so bitter by strife and injustice.

Now when Giotto was beginning to grow famous,
it happened that the Pope was anxious to have the
walls of the great Cathedral of St. Peter at Rome
decorated. So he sent messengers all over Italy to
find out who were the best painters, that he might
invite them to come and do the work.

The messengers went from town to town and
asked every artist for a specimen of his painting.
This was gladly given, for it was counted a great
honour to help to make St. Peter's beautiful.

By and by the messengers came to Giotto and
told him their errand. The Pope, they said, wished
to see one of his drawings to judge if he was fit for
the great work. Giotto, who was always most
courteous, `took a sheet of paper and a pencil