and gentle, although he did frighten all of you big
warriors so terribly."

The King scowled at this speech, not liking to be ridiculed, but he
said nothing more. He and his men returned that same day to Regos,
after restoring the bridge of boats. And they held a wild carnival of
rejoicing, both in the King's palace and in the city, although the poor
people of Regos who were not warriors were all sorry that the kind
young Prince had been captured by his enemies and could rule them no
longer.

When her unwelcome guests had all gone back to Regos and the Queen was
alone in her palace, she ordered Inga and Rinkitink brought before her
and their bonds removed. They came sadly enough, knowing they were in
serious straits and at the mercy of a cruel mistress. Inga had taken
counsel of the White Pearl, which had advised him to bear up bravely
under his misfortune, promising a change for the better very soon. With
this promise to comfort him, Inga faced the Queen with a dignified
bearing that indicated both pride and courage.

"Well, youngster," said she, in a cheerful tone because she was pleased
with her success, "you played a clever trick on my poor husband and
frightened him badly, but for that prank I am inclined to forgive you.
Hereafter I intend you to be my page, which means that you must fetch
and carry for me at my will. And let me advise you to obey my every
whim without question or delay, for when I am angry I become ugly, and
when I am ugly someone is sure to feel the lash. Do you understand me?"

Inga bowed, but made no answer. Then she turned to Rinkitink and said:

"As for you, I cannot decide how to make you useful to me, as you are
altogether too fat and awkward to work in the fields. It may be,
however, that I can use you as a pincushion.

"What!" cried Rinkitink in horror, "would you stick pins into the King
of Gilgad?"

"Why not?" returned Queen Cor. "You are as fat as a pincushion, as you
must yourself admit, and whenever I needed a pin I could call you to
me." Then she laughed at his frightened look and asked: "By the way,
are you ticklish?"

This was the question Rinkitink had been dreading. He gave a moan of
despair and shook his head.

"I should love to tickle the bottom of your feet with a feather,"
continued the cruel woman. "Please take off your shoes."

"Oh, your Majesty!" pleaded poor Rinkitink, "I beg you to allow me to
amuse you in some other way. I can dance, or I can sing you a so