ring her cry,
rushed forth from the closet and down the stairs.

Whipping his sword from its scabbard, he made for the cruel tyrant.

Alas, that bravery and valor do not always win! It was useless for him
to fight against so experienced a swordsman as the King, and in short
time the prince was wounded and his sword thrown from his grasp.

"Little gamecock!" cried his conqueror, "you must needs grow larger
spurs before you tackle an old rooster like me! And since you remind me
of one, a rooster you shall be," and in five short seconds the little
prince was changed into a young gamecock.

"Out into the courtyard!" cried the King; "a castle is no chicken
house," and the little prince found himself unceremoniously thrown under
the big pine tree.

"Have pity!" cried the little princess. "Is there no pity for a little
orphan princess?"

"Enough," answered the King, with a stamp of his foot. "Go to your
room, else you may find yourself also changed into a bird, or a tree,
or a pretty butterfly."

So the unhappy little princess went up the stairs, crying bitterly, to
her own chamber. Closing the door, she leaned out of the window and
sobbed as if her heart would break.

For a moment she did not notice that the topmost branch of the pine tree
was close to her casement. In fact, she would not have noticed it for
some time probably, as her face was buried in her hands, had not the
branch brushed against her fingers.

As she withdrew her hands from her face she heard the giant's voice,
very much subdued, speaking to her.

"Ned says not to despair, for he feels sure that his little friend, the
bluebird, will yet find a way to liberate us all."

THE MAGIC BALLOON

Ned leaves the Magic Soap Bubble.

[Illustration]

THE MAGIC BALLOON

GREAT was the grief of the little bluebird as she skimmed over the
waters of the moat, realizing how impossible it was for her to regain
the lost ring.

She had not the heart for the moment to return to the castle to inform
Ned of his loss; so she perched herself disconsolately on a bush which
grew close to the margin of the moon-lit water, wondering what was best
to do.

Suddenly the speckled trout rose to the surface, and, seeing how
despondent was the pretty bluebird, inquired the cause of her grief.

"Ah, me!" she sighed in answer. "I have lost a magic gold ring, and I
know not what to do, nor how to recover it."

At this the speckled trout flapped his silvery tail gl