atever you do, _don't cry_," said
the Old King. But even as he spoke, one little cloud dissolved in
raindrops and wetted the fine clothes of the company.

Presently a push and a bustle began. Long, narrow tables were brought
into the hall, and in a short space of time they were covered with the
most wonderful dainties in the way of sweets and cakes, jellies,
puddings and fruit.

Walter sat down hastily: a fine plate of Easter eggs and nuts was before
him. He helped himself plentifully, and even filled his pockets, which
was not quite good manners you know, but seemed to excite no notice.

A venerable water-sprite rose presently and proposed the health of the
Old King. Wine-glasses were filled to the brim with golden or crimson
wine; as the glasses clinked together, the vibrations sounded sweet yet
sad like some high violin note, as it dies on the string. Then a wind
arose, summer lightning played round the room, illuminating vividly the
faces of that strange company; a roar of thunder shook the castle.
Brunhilde's fire sprang up suddenly round the outer walls, so that the
scene was brighter than daylight. The tables were cleared away, and the
wildest revels began. The Old King faded into the distance like a
mountain-peak. A goblin seized hold of Walter and tore him round in the
maddest fashion.

The foxes had a corner to themselves; their dancing was evidently much
admired. Especially our friend and his sweetheart Miss Bushy Tail
distinguished themselves by the elegance of their steps.

Mother Holle seemed to keep a certain amount of order, but the revels
became wilder and wilder and Walter grew strangely sleepy and tired; he
felt himself a part of some mad dream. As he dreamed, great clouds came
rolling up, and all was lost in mist. When the mist cleared, Walter
stood once more before the throne of the Old King.

"Come my little fleecy," the Old King was saying to a little girl cloud
who came tumbling down before him. "Be the best of daughters and take
this little boy home; you know the way. But mind, no tears!"

"Adieu," he said to Walter. Walter murmured adieu, and, in another
moment, he was flying with his arm round the neck of the baby cloud,
flying, flying, flying.

* * * * *

He knew no more till he found himself in his garden at home, feeling
rather queer and sleepy. He got up, and stretched himself, and found
that he was quite wet; for the little cloud had dissolved in t