From some invisible place strains of music floated, and the music was of the kind which does not make the heart either heavy or light, but simply tender.
The children began to advance into the Hall of Parents, gazing with wondering eyes at the painted curtains, which held for them a strange fascination. As they drew nearer they perceived that in the middle of the semi-circle of curtains there was an opening, with soft draperies before it, as if it were here that the parents would presently enter.
Then the pictures on the curtains began to become clear, and there were cries of joy and amazement from the children. One picture showed the mother and father of Everychild. The mother sat at a table, her face buried on her arms. The father stood helplessly beside her, his hand on her shoulder.
Another picture showed the wicked King John of England sitting gloomily on his throne.
Another showed the mother and sisters of Cinderella seated before a fireplace, silent and forlorn. Near them, and gazing at them challengingly, was the figure of a gallant young man with a crystal slipper of great delicacy in his hand.
Another showed the parents of Hansel and Grettel, the father clasping a loaf of bread to him and gazing abstractedly before him.
Another showed Old Mother Hubbard standing before a cupboard and looking into it intently.
Another showed the unique residence of the Old Woman who lived in a shoe, with the Old Woman herself standing dejectedly near the gaping opening in the toe.
Others showed certain not easily recognizable ladies and gentlemen: perhaps the parents of Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue and others.
And high above all these homely pictures, which were exaggerated just enough to be really fascinating—like the pictures at the side-show of the circus—fluttered the soft pennons.