Children like to understand what they read, and are never so happy as when talking over their favorite stories with those of their elders who have the power to enter sympathetically into the child world. By no means do all boys and girls like to be taught; in fact there are not many more certain ways of prejudicing a child against anything than by making it the subject of a formal lesson. Still, every child loves to learn, and is seeking at every moment to add to his information and to exercise his mind. Yet he must do it in his own way and with the things in which he is interested. If those facts are borne in mind, no parent will have difficulty in interesting his child or in leading the juvenile mind where it ought to go. To apply these ideas to teaching the plot of such a story as _Cinderella_, let the parent who loves his children, and who wishes to be no stranger to their interests, joys and sorrows, seat himself among them some time and begin to read to them. Pausing now and then to explain some word whose meaning may be obscure to them, or to comment on some phase of the story that may be of special interest, let him read on to the end without attempting to do much more than to make the story a vivid tale where the interest centers in the incident. When the story has ended, the pleasure has but just begun. Children like to ask questions, but they are no less ready to answer them if the questions are on things of interest, are related to the things which children know and are put in such a way that the genuine interest of the questioner is always evident. The I-know-it-all-and-you-know-nothing style of questioning; the I'm-the-master-and-you're-the-pupil style; the because-I-ask-you-must-answer style are all fatal to interest, and will soon prevent that hearty sympathy and living spirit of coöperation that the parent wishes to secure. If we suppose it is _Cinderella_ that has been read, we may begin our questioning in this manner: