msily, groaning and moaning with every step and waving its ears like
two blankets flying from a clothesline.

The king looked on it and frowned.

"Why are you not breathing fire and brimstone?" he demanded, angrily.

"Why, I was caught out in a gale the other night," returned the Dragon,
rubbing the back of its ear with its left front paw, as it paused and
looked at the king, "and the wind put out my fire."

"Then why didn't you light it again?" asked Terribus, turning on the
keepers.

"We--we were out of matches, your Majesty!" stammered the trembling
Gray Men.

"So--ho!" yelled the king, and was about to order the keepers beheaded;
but just then Nerle pulled out his match-box, lit one of the matches,
and held it in front of the Dragon's mouth. Instantly the creature's
breath caught fire; and it began to breathe flames a yard in length.

"That's better," sighed the Dragon, contentedly. "I hope your Majesty
is now satisfied."

"No,--I am not satisfied!" declared King Terribus. "Why do you not
lash your tail?"

"Ah, I can't do that!" replied the Dragon. "It's all stiffened up with
rheumatism from the dampness of my cave. It hurts too much to lash it."

"Well, then, gnash your teeth!" commanded the king.

"Tut--tut!" answered the Dragon, mildly; "I can't do that, either; for
since you had them so beautifully carved it makes my teeth ache to
gnash them."

"Well, then, what are you good for?" cried the king, in a fury.

"Don't I look awful? Am I not terrible to gaze on?" inquired the
Dragon, proudly, as it breathed out red and yellow flames and made them
curl in circles around its horns. "I guess there's no need for me to
suggest terror to any one that happens to see me," it added, winking
one of the pie-plate eyes at King Terribus.

The king looked at the monster critically, and it really seemed to him
that it was a frightful thing to behold. So he curbed his anger and
said, in his ordinary sweet voice:

"I have called you here to destroy these two strangers."

"How?" asked the Dragon, looking upon Prince Marvel and Nerle with
interest.

"I am not particular," answered the king. "You may consume them with
your fiery breath, or smash them with your tail, or grind them to atoms
between your teeth, or tear them to pieces with your claws. Only, do
hurry up and get it over with!"

"Hm-m-m!" said the Dragon, thoughtfully, as if it didn't relish the
job; "this one isn't Saint George, is it?"

"N