y leaf; say 'Abracadabra, dum
dum dum,' and--see what will happen!"

The Prince burst into a fit of laughing. It all seemed so exceedingly
silly; he wondered that a wise old woman like his godmother should talk
such nonsense.

"Stuff-and-nonsense, you mean," said she, answering, to his great alarm,
his unspoken thoughts. "Did I not tell you some people called me by that
name? Never mind; it doesn't harm me."

And she laughed--her merry laugh--as child-like as if she were the
Prince's age instead of her own, whatever that might be. She certainly
was a most extraordinary old woman.

"Believe me or not, it doesn't matter," said she. "Here is the cloak:
when you want to go traveling on it, say 'Abracadabra, dum, dum, dum';
when you want to come back again, say 'Abracadabra, tum tum ti.' That's
all; good-by."

A puff of most pleasant air passing by him, and making him feel for the
moment quite strong and well, was all the Prince was conscious of. His
most extraordinary godmother was gone.

"Really now, how rosy your Royal Highness' cheeks have grown! You seem
to have got well already," said the nurse, entering the room.

"I think I have," replied the Prince very gently--he felt gently and
kindly even to his grim nurse. "And now let me have my dinner, and go
you to your sewing as usual."

The instant she was gone, however, taking with her the plates and
dishes, which for the first time since his illness he had satisfactorily
cleared, Prince Dolor sprang down from his sofa, and with one or two
of his frog-like jumps reached the cupboard where he kept his toys, and
looked everywhere for his traveling-cloak.

Alas! it was not there.

While he was ill of the doldrums, his nurse, thinking it a good
opportunity for putting things to rights, had made a grand clearance of
all his "rubbish"--as she considered it: his beloved headless horses,
broken carts, sheep without feet, and birds without wings--all the
treasures of his baby days, which he could not bear to part with. Though
he seldom played with them now, he liked just to feel they were there.

They were all gone and with them the traveling-cloak. He sat down on the
floor, looking at the empty shelves, so beautifully clean and tidy, then
burst out sobbing as if his heart would break.

But quietly--always quietly. He never let his nurse hear him cry. She
only laughed at him, as he felt she would laugh now.

"And it is all my own fault!" he cried. "I ought to have t