lly
and ignominiously as a little helpless baby carried in the deaf-mute's
arms--quitted it as the great King of Nomansland.

The only thing he took away with him was something so insignificant that
none of the lords, gentlemen, and soldiers who escorted him with such
triumphant splendor could possibly notice it--a tiny bundle, which
he had found lying on the floor just where the bridge of sunbeams had
rested. At once he had pounced upon it, and thrust it secretly into his
bosom, where it dwindled into such small proportions that it might
have been taken for a mere chest-comforter, a bit of flannel, or an old
pocket-handkerchief. It was his traveling-cloak!

CHAPTER X

Did Prince Dolar become a great king? Was he, though little more than a
boy, "the father of his people," as all kings ought to be? Did his reign
last long--long and happy? and what were the principal events of it, as
chronicled in the history of Nomansland?

Why, if I were to answer all these questions I should have to write
another book. And I'm tired, children, tired--as grown-up people
sometimes are, though not always with play. (Besides, I have a small
person belonging to me, who, though she likes extremely to listen to the
word-of-mouth story of this book, grumbles much at the writing of it,
and has run about the house clapping her hands with joy when mamma told
her that it was nearly finished. But that is neither here nor there.)

I have related as well as I could the history of Prince Dolor, but with
the history of Nomansland I am as yet unacquainted. If anybody knows
it, perhaps he or she will kindly write it all down in another book. But
mine is done.

However, of this I am sure, that Prince Dolor made an excellent king.
Nobody ever does anything less well, not even the commonest duty of
common daily life, for having such a godmother as the little old woman
clothed in gray, whose name is--well, I leave you to guess. Nor, I
think, is anybody less good, less capable of both work and enjoyment in
after-life, for having been a little unhappy in his youth, as the prince
had been.

I cannot take upon myself to say that he was always happy now--who
is?--or that he had no cares; just show me the person who is quite free
from them! But whenever people worried and bothered him--as they did
sometimes, with state etiquette, state squabbles, and the like, setting
up themselves and pulling down their neighbors--he would take refuge in
that upper r