"It is your tapestry, dear child," her mother said, laughing her sweet,
joyous laugh. "I am sure I think Saint George and the dragon would make a
very handsome set. And we need not draw all the designs now. Perhaps by-
and-by we shall know some one who will draw a dragon for us. Meanwhile you
may begin on the first panel."

Eleanor flung her arms around her mother. "Oh, mother dearest, it's so
good of you. I'm so excited to begin. Please commence at the very first
part of the story, for that will be easy."

"Not so easy as you think, perhaps, sweetheart. However, we can but try.
You mean the setting forth of the knight?"

"No, the time when he was a little boy, and the weird woman of the woods
took him away and taught him everything. I like that part almost best of
all."

"Very well. That will be a wise beginning, for in embroidering the trees
and flowers of the forest you will learn all the different stitches. You
will have to embroider quite well before beginning on the figures."

Eleanor leaned breathless over the table while her mother drew the
outlines of the picture upon the linen--the witch-woman in her forest
home, the straight, sturdy figure of small George standing before her. On
two sides and the bottom of the panel were drawn gnarled and twisted tree-
trunks and roots, ferns and flowers. Across the top a narrow conventional
border was outlined, the cross of Saint George alternating with a five-
petaled rose, the wild rose of England.

"You may begin the border now," said Lady Philippa, threading a needle