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 taken better
care of my godmother's gift. Oh, godmother, forgive me! I'll never be so
careless again. I don't know what the cloak is exactly, but I am sure
it is something precious. Help me to find it again. Oh, don't let it be
stolen from me--don't, please!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed a silvery voice. "Why, that traveling-cloak is
the one thing in the world which nobody can steal. It is of no use to
anybody except the owner. Open your eyes, my Prince, and see what you
shall see."

His dear old godmother, he thought, and turned eagerly round. But no;
he only beheld, lying in a corner of the room, all dust and cobwebs, his
precious traveling-cloak.

Prince Dolor darted toward it, tumbling several times on the way, as
he often did tumble, poor boy! and pick himself up again, never
complaining. Snatching it to his breast, he hugged and kissed it,
cobwebs and all, as if it had been something alive. Then he began
unrolling it, wondering each minute what would happen. What did happen
was so curious that I must leave it for another chapter.



CHAPTER V

If any reader, big or little, should wonder whether there is a meaning