oman's head, taking out the cloves, because he did not like cloves.
At that moment there was a soft whirring off to one side of him, and
a yellow bird, rising and failing erratically on the breeze, careened
suddenly and fell at his feet.

Prince Ferdinand William Otto bent down and picked it up. It was a small
toy aeroplane, with yellow silk planes, guy-ropes of waxed thread, and a
wooden rudder, its motive power vested in a tightly twisted rubber.
One of the wings was bent. Ferdinand William Otto straightened it, and
looked around for the owner.

A small boy was standing under the next gas-lamp. "Gee!" he said in
English. "Did you see it go that time?"

Prince Ferdinand William Otto eyed the stranger. He was about his own
age, and was dressed in a short pair of corduroy trousers, much bloomed
at the knee, a pair of yellow Russia-leather shoes that reached well to
his calves, and, over all, a shaggy white sweater, rolling almost to his
chin. On the very back of his head he had the smallest cap that Prince
Ferdinand William Otto had ever seen.

Now, this was exactly the way in which the Crown Prince had always
wished to dress. He was suddenly conscious of the long trousers on his
own small legs, of the ignominy of his tailless Eton jacket and stiff,
rolling collar, of the crowning disgrace of his derby hat. But the
lonely feeling had gone from him.

"This is the best time for flying," he said, in his perfect English.
"All the exhibition flights are at sundown."

The boy walked slowly over and stood looking down at him. "You ought
to see it fly from the top of Pike's Peak!" he remarked. He had caught
sight of the despised derby, and his eyes widened, but with instinctive
good-breeding he ignored it. "That's Pike's Peak up there."

He indicated the very top of the Land of Desire. The Prince stared up.

"How does one get up?" he queried.

"Ladders. My father's the manager. He lets me up sometimes."

Prince Ferdinand William Otto stared with new awe at the boy. He found
the fact much more remarkable than if the stranger had stated that his
father was the King of England. Kings were, as you may say, directly in
Prince Ferdinand William Otto's line, but scenic railroads--

"I had thought of taking a journey on it," he said, after a second's
reflection. "Do you think your father will sell me a ticket?"

"Billy Grimm will. I'll go with you."

The Prince rose with alacrity. Then he stopped. He must, of course, ask