The Prince's countenance fell. "I don't want a cloak, for I never go
out. Sometimes nurse hoists me on to the roof, and carries me round by
the parapet; but that is all. I can't walk, you know, as she does."

"The more reason why you should ride; and besides, this
traveling-cloak----"

"Hush!--she's coming."

There sounded outside the room door a heavy step and a grumpy voice, and
a rattle of plates and dishes.

"It's my nurse, and she is bringing my dinner; but I don't want dinner
at all--I only want you. Will her coming drive you away, godmother?"

"Perhaps; but only for a little while. Never mind; all the bolts and
bars in the world couldn't keep me out. I'd fly in at the window, or
down through the chimney. Only wish for me, and I come."

"Thank you," said Prince Dolor, but almost in a whisper, for he was
very uneasy at what might happen next. His nurse and his godmother--what
would they say to one another? how would they look at one another?--two
such different faces: one harsh-lined, sullen, cross, and sad; the other
sweet and bright and calm as a summer evening before the dark begins.

When the door was flung open, Prince Dolor shut his eyes, trembling all
over; opening them again, he saw he need fear nothing--his lovely old
godmother had melted away just like the rainbow out of the sky, as he
had watched it many a time. Nobody but his nurse was in the room.