f the Demons, to your assistance," suggested
the wise mare.

With the aid of the Demon-King and his subjects N'Oun Doare's task was
again accomplished, and he and his mare followed the demon army to
Paris, where they arrived as soon as it did.

In the morning the people of Paris were struck dumb to see a wonderful
palace, its golden towers flashing in the sun, rising opposite to the
royal residence.

"We shall be married at last, shall we not?" asked the King.

"Yes," replied the Princess, "but how shall I enter my chateau and
show you its wonders without a key, for I dropped it in the sea when
N'Oun Doare and his horse carried me over it."

Once more was the youth charged with the task, and through the aid of
the Fish-King was able to procure the key, which was cut from a single
diamond. None of the fishes had seen it, but at last the oldest fish,
who had not appeared when his name was pronounced, came forward and
produced it from his mouth.

With a glad heart the successful N'Oun Doare returned to Paris, and as
the Princess had now no more excuses to make the day of the wedding
was fixed and the ceremony was celebrated with much splendour. To the
astonishment of all, when the King and his betrothed entered the
church N'Oun Doare followed behind with his mare. At the conclusion of
the ceremony the mare's skin suddenly fell to the ground, disclosing a
maiden of the most wonderful beauty.

Smiling upon the bewildered N'Oun Doare, the damsel gave him her hand
and said: "Come with me to Tartary, for the king of that land is my
father, and there we shall be wed amid great rejoicing."

Leaving the amazed King and wedding guests, the pair quitted the
church together. More might have been told of them, but Tartary is a
far land and no news of them has of late years reached Brittany.

_The Princess of Tronkolaine_

There was once an old charcoal-burner who had twenty-six grandchildren.
For twenty-five of them he had no great difficulty in procuring
godparents, but for the twenty-sixth--that, alas! was a different
story. Godmothers, indeed, were to be found in plenty, but he could
not find anyone to act as godfather.

As he wandered disconsolately along the high road, dwelling on his bad
luck, he saw a fine carriage coming toward him, its occupant no less a
personage than the King himself. The old man made an obeisance so low
that the King was amused, and threw him a handful of silver.

"My good man," he said, "