e princess would die if the glow-worm won the race.

"Rubbish!" exclaimed the magician who had spoken to the princess;
"likewise stuff and nonsense and the equivalent thereof in the seventy
unknown languages."

That was an impertinent comment on their divinations, and so they
listened seriously.

"The princess," he said, "is just tired. That is a disease which will
become popular and fashionable as the world grows older and more
people amass riches. She is sick of being waited on hand and foot and
bowed down to and all that sort of thing. She has never been allowed
to romp as a child, to choose her own companions and the rest of it.
Therefore, she is bored with all the etcetras. The case is
comprehensible and comprehensive: it needs the exercise of imagination
stimulated by prescience, conscience, patience...."

The others yawned and began to collect dictionaries, and fearing that
they might be tempted to fling them at him after they had found the
meaning of his big words, he ceased.

"I agree," said the president of the assembly, the oldest wizard,
"only I diagnose the disease in simpler form. The princess is in
love."

That set them all jabbering together, and they finally agreed to
report to the king that the time had arrived when the princess should
marry, so that she should be able to go away to a new land, amid other
people and different scenes.

The king agreed reluctantly, for he dearly loved his daughter and
wished her to remain with him always if possible. Heralds and
messengers were sent out far and wide, and very soon a procession of
suitors for the princess' hand began to file past the lady. They were
princes of all shapes and sizes, of all complexions and colors; some
were resplendent with jewels, others were followed by retinues of
slaves bearing gifts; a few entered the competition by proxy--that is,
they sent somebody else to see the lady first and pronounce judgment
upon her. These she dismissed summarily, declaring that they were
disqualified by the rules of fair play.

When all the entrants had been inspected by the king, he said to his
daughter:

"Pick the one you love the best, Solima dear."

"None," she answered promptly.

"Dear, dear me--that is very awkward. We shall have to return the
entrance fees--I mean the presents," he said.

That prospect did not seem to worry the princess in the least; nor did
her father's appeal not to belittle him in the eyes of his fellow
monarchs hav