he smoke make its own way out of his
mouth. "There was once a large king. It wasn't his fault. The girth
went with the crown. All the Koppabottemburgs were enormous. Besides,
it went very well with his subjects. Looking upon him, they felt they
were getting their money's worth. A man of simple tastes, his
favourite hobby was fowls.

"One day, just as he'd finished cleaning out the fowl-house, he found
that he'd run out of maize. So he slipped on his invisible cloak and
ran round to the grocer's. He always wore his invisible cloak when
shopping. He found it cheaper.

"Well, the grocer was just recovering from the spectacle of two pounds
of the best maize shoving themselves into a brown-paper bag and pushing
off down the High Street, when a witch came in. The grocer's heart
sank into his boots. He hated witches. If you weren't civil, before
you knew where you were, you were a three-legged toad or a dew-pond or
something. So you had to be civil. As for their custom--well, it
wasn't worth having. They wouldn't look at bacon, unless you'd
guarantee that the pig had been killed on a moonless Friday with the
wind in the North, and as for pulled figs, if you couldn't swear that
the box had been crossed by a one-eyed man whose father had committed
arson in a pair of brown boots, you could go and bury them under the
lilacs.

"This time, however, the grocer was pleasantly surprised.

"I didn't know," said the witch, "that you were under the patronage of
Royalty."

"Oh, didn't you?" said the grocer. "Why, the Master of the Horse has
got his hoof-oil here for nearly two days now."

"Master of the Horse be snookered," said the witch. "I'm talking about
the king."

"'The K-King?'" stammered the grocer.

"'Oh, cut it out,' said the witch, to whom an invisible cloak meant
nothing. 'No doubt you've been told to keep quiet, but I don't count.
And I'll bet you did the old fool over his maize.'

"The grocer's brain worked very rapidly. The memory of a tin of mixed
biscuits and half a Dutch cheese, which had floated out of his shop
only the day before, and numerous other recollections of mysteriously
animated provisions came swarming into his mind. At length--

"'We never charge Royalty,' he said loftily.

"'Oh, don't you?' snapped the witch. 'Well, supposing you change this
broomstick. You swore blue it was cut on a rainless Tuesday from an
ash that had supported a murderer with a false nose. The very f