each cheek and one on his chin. Who ever saw any one with
three dimples?"

When the King heard this and Little Boy's father declared also that his
lost son had no dimples, the King bade them all go free, and said he had
been now nine years angry about those bricks, and that whoever would
find the bad brick-maker should marry the Princess. When Prince Little
Boy heard this he said that he was the bad boy who had made those
bricks. But the King was as good as his word, and ordered that the
Prince should marry the Princess, and not have his head cut off, because
the Princess did wisely say that a husband with no head wasn't much good
as a husband. Therefore they were married that minute, and I have heard
that they spent their honeymoon in Fairy-land. And this is the end of
the Story of Prince Little Boy.

THE BEE-MAN OF ORN[E]

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON

In the ancient country of Orn there lived an old man who was called the
Bee-man, because his whole time was spent in the company of bees. He
lived in a small hut, which was nothing more than an immense bee-hive,
for these little creatures had built their honeycombs in every corner of
the one room it contained--on the shelves, under the little table, all
about the rough bench on which the old man sat, and even about the
head-board and along the sides of his low bed.

All day the air of the room was thick with buzzing insects, but this did
not interfere in any way with the old Bee-man, who walked in among them,
ate his meals, and went to sleep, without the slightest fear of being
stung.

He had lived with the bees so long, they had become so accustomed to
him, and his skin was so tough and hard, that the bees no more thought
of stinging him than they would of stinging a tree or a stone. A swarm
of bees had made their hive in a pocket of his old leathern doublet; and
when he put on this coat to take one of his long walks in the forest in
search of wild bees' nests, he was very glad to have this hive with him,
for, if he did not find any wild honey, he would put his hand in his
pocket and take out a piece of a comb for a luncheon. The bees in his
pocket worked very industriously, and he was always certain of having
something to eat with him wherever he went. He lived principally upon
honey; and when he needed bread or meat, he carried some fine combs to a
village not far away and bartered them for other food. He was ugly,
untidy, shrivelled, and brown. He was poor,