rt; the horns and tail of the monster were
exhibited amidst general interest, and Benson and the prince were
invited to state their claims.

Benson's evidence was taken first. He declined to say exactly where
or how he killed the Firedrake. There might be more of them left, he
remarked,--young ones, that would take a lot of killing,--and he refused
to part with his secret. Only he claimed the reward, which was offered,
if you remember, _not_ to the man who killed the beast, but to him wha
brought its horns and tail. This was allowed by the lawyers present
to be very sound law; and Benson was cheered by the courtiers, who
decidedly preferred him to Prigio, and who, besides, thought he was
going to be crown prince. As for Lady Molinda, she was torn by the most
painful feelings; for, much as she hated Prigio, she could not bear the
idea of marrying Benson. Yet one or the other choice seemed certain.

Unhappy lady! Perhaps no girl was ever more strangely beset by
misfortune!

Prince Prigio was now called on to speak.

He admitted that the reward was offered for bringing the horns and tail,
not for killing the monster. But were the king's _intentions_ to go for
nothing? When a subject only _meant_ well, of course he had to suffer;
but when a king said one thing, was he not to be supposed to have meant
another? Any fellow with a waggon could _bring_ the horns and tail; the
difficult thing was to kill the monster. If Benson's claim was allowed,
the royal prerogative of saying one thing and meaning something else was
in danger.

On hearing this argument, the king so far forgot himself as to cry,
"Bravo, well said!" and to clap his hands, whereon all the courtiers
shouted and threw up their hats.

The prince then said that whoever had killed the monster could, of
course, tell where to find him, and could bring his hoofs. He was
ready to do this himself. Was Mr. Benson equally ready? On this being
interpreted to him--for he did not speak Pantouflian--Benson grew pale
with horror, but fell back on the proclamation. He had brought the horns
and tail, and so he must have the perquisites, and the Lady Molinda!

The king's mind was so much confused by this time, that he determined to
leave it to the Lady Molinda herself.

"Which of them will you have, my dear?" he asked, in a kind voice.

But poor Molinda merely cried. Then his majesty was almost _driven_ to
say that he would give the reward to whoever produced the hoofs by