"I am tired of this beautiful Valley," answered Fiddlecumdoo, "and as
the bicycle tree beside the Crystal Lake is now hanging full of ripe
wheels, I thought I would gather one and ride over into the next valley
in search of adventure." You see, this Prince was the King's youngest
son, and had been rather spoiled by petting, as youngest sons often
are.

"The next valley, my son, is inhabited by the giant Hartilaf," said the
King, "and should you meet him he might do you an injury."

"Oh, I am not afraid of Hartilaf," replied Fiddlecumdoo, boldly. "If he
should not be pleasant to me, I could run away from him on my wheel."

"I don't know about that," responded the King. "There may be bicycle
trees in the next valley, as well as here; and it is always dangerous
and foolish for any one to leave this Valley, where there is everything
that heart could wish. Instead of running away in search of adventures,
you would do better to remain at home and help your mother pick collar
buttons and neckties for the family."

"That is work," said Fiddlecumdoo, sulkily, "and I hate work."

"Yet somebody has to pick the collar buttons," returned the King, "or
we should be unable to keep our collars on."

"Then let Jollikin help my mother. I am horribly tired of this stupid
place, and shall not be happy until I have traveled around and seen
something more of the world."