ne and so be king. Even Nimble Jim heard of this.
So, every night, he watched, hoping to see the elfin queen. At last
she came, as before, on her moonbeam footpath, saying: "Hello, Nimble
Jim! How are your melons by this time?"

But he was in no mood to be facetious now. He only said, humbly:

"May it please your majesty, what can I do to stop the growth of this
horrible vine, and instantly sweep it from the face of the earth? Help
me, I beg your gracious majesty!"--and Jim knelt before her.

"Ha, ha! Nimble Jim don't seem to like melons! I told you you'd be
sorry," laughed the little elfin queen. "I suppose you still want
to be as rich as the king? Or perhaps you would like to be the king
himself?" said she, tauntingly.

"Of course I would, your majesty," said Jim, "if the vine can only be
stopped."

"You are a very good cobbler, Nimble Jim," she answered, "and since
you mended my shoe so nicely, and as the king has promised to exchange
with any one who will wither and destroy the vine, and as you might as
well be king as another (and as you need a good lesson," said she to
herself), "I give you the means to do it all!"

And the tiny queen pulled off the mended shoe, and cried: "Here, you
silly boy! Take this and run to the palace. Once there, you need touch
but a tendril with this magic shoe, and the vine will wither and
disappear, and the crown and kingdom will be yours. I wish you joy of
both. Good-bye! You will learn contentment yet, poor Jim, I hope," she
added, as he ran out of hearing, with the precious little shoe in his
hand.

Leaving his poor mother behind, for he had forgotten all about her
during these days, Jim set off for the palace. It was a long, hard
journey, on account of the melon-vines, that not only blocked the
road, but even chased him. Many a narrow escape had he from being
crushed to death in the embrace of some young tendril that would shoot
out, wriggling and writhing toward him like a great green serpent.

At length, he arrived at the palace gate, which in old times was
marble, but now was only a hole that had been cut through a melon.

"Halt! Who goes there!" shouted a sentinel, thrusting his spear in
front of Jim's panting breast.

"It's only Nimble Jim, the Cobbler. I want to see the king," said the
boy.

"Be off, you fellow!" shouted the sentry. "Our noble king don't
hob-nob with cobblers! Be off, I say, or----" And he shook his spear
at our hero ominously.

"Hold, there!"