“You see,” said Father Dante, “it is all foolishness. You are still of a hideous shape.”

“But Father,” pleaded Sonny Benny, “you have not done what King said. You tell me that I am the same, but horse said that you must speak of me and think of me as being straight.”

He begged so hard that they do as King said that Father Dante promised him that they would. Mother Dante half believed it and Father Dante was a man of his word; every time they looked at Sonny Benny they saw him beautiful.

It was not many days after that, when they had almost reached their destination, and had stopped before a public well, that Sonny Benny, without waiting for his father to help him as he usually did, jumped off the horse’s back and ran for a drink of water.

Mother Dante screamed, “See our boy!” And Father Dante looked and was amazed. For it had come to pass, even as Sonny Benny had said; he was tall and straight and beautiful.

It was while they were at the well that a little girl approached with faltering steps. “See,” said Father Dante, “she is like our poor Sonny Benny was.” Sonny Benny shook his head sadly and said pityingly, “Yes, she is even worse.” And what do you think? As Sonny Benny said those words he seemed to shrink and shrink and once more resumed his crooked shape. Little Sonny Benny was heartbroken and reproachful toward his horse. He grieved and cried bitterly that night for King to come and talk to him, but it was not until the good father and mother were asleep that King trod softly over to the little boy’s bedside and pawed the earth for his wish to talk. Then he told Sonny Benny that he would be always beautiful and straight if he must want others to be the same way, and must see them that way.

“To see yourself beautiful,” said King, “is a good thought, and to see someone else crooked is a bad thought; and you cannot think a good thought one moment and a bad one the next—not if you want the good one to come true, Sonny Benny. You must think good thoughts all the day. You must see in others all that you desire in yourself. And now I must leave you,” concluded King, “and go back to my own country. You will carry on my work. That will be my gift to Father and Mother