only one way out.'

'That's one too many. There's not to be any way out,' said the people.

'Well, there's a way out of everything, you know,' said the Magician
timidly--he was trembling for his own head--'but it's fifty thousand
millions to one against her ever finding it.'

So they had to be content with that, and they fetched Everilda out of
her prison; and the Magician took her hand and called his carriage,
which was an invention of his own--half dragon, and half motor-car, and
half flying-machine--so that it was a carriage and a half, and came when
it was called, tame as any pet dog.

He lifted Everilda in, and said 'Gee up!' to his patent carriage, and
the intelligent creature geed up right into the air and flew away. The
Princess shut her eyes tight, and tried not to scream. She succeeded.

When the Magician's carriage got to the place where it knew it ought to
stop, it did stop, and tumbled Everilda out on to a hard floor, and went
back to its master, who patted it, and gave it a good feed of oil, and
fire, and water, and petroleum spirit.

The Princess opened her eyes as the sound of the rattling dragon wings
died away. She was alone--quite alone. 'I won't stay here,' said
Everilda; 'I'll run away again.'

She ran to the edge of the tower and looked down. The tower was in the
middle of a garden, and the garden was in the middle of a wood, and the
wood was in the middle of a field, and after the field there was nothing
more at all except steep cliffs and the great rolling, raging waves of
the Perilous Sea.

'There's no way to run away by,' she said; and then she remembered that
even if she ran away, there was now nowhere to run to, because the
people had taken her palace away from her, and the palace was the only
home she had ever had--and where her nurse was goodness only knew.

'So I suppose I've got to live here till someone fetches me,' she said,
and stopped crying, like a brave King's daughter as she was.

'I'll explore,' said Everilda all alone; 'that will be fun.' She said it
bravely, and really it was more fun than she expected. The tower had
only one room on each floor. The top floor was Everilda's bedroom; she
knew that by her gold-backed brushes and things with 'E. P.' on them
that lay on the toilet-table. The next floor was a sitting-room, and the
next a dining-room, and the last of all was a kitchen, with rows of
bright pots and pans, and everything that a cook can possibly want.

'Now I