Snaps and crunches, as Pompa consumed his strange catch, were the only answer, and in real alarm the Elegant Elephant moved away from the shore, and in doing so bumped against a white sign, stuck in the sand. “Please Don’t Fall In,” directed the sign politely, “_It Spoils The Soup_.” “Soup!” sputtered Kabumpo. Then another sign caught his eye: “_Soup Sea—Salted To Taste—Help Yourself_.” “Come down—come down here directly!” cried the Elegant Elephant, snatching the Prince from his back. “Here’s the soup—a whole sea full. Now all you need is a bowl.” Swallowing convulsively the last bit of carrot, Pompa stood staring out over the tossing, smoking soup sea. Every now and then a bone or a vegetable would bob out of the waves, and the poor hungry Prince of Pumperdink thought he had never seen a more lovely sight in his life. “We’ll probably be awarded a china medal for this,” chuckled the Elegant Elephant. “Won’t old Pumper’s eyes stick out when we tell him about it? But now for a bowl!” Swinging his trunk gently, Kabumpo walked up the white beach, and had not gone more than a dozen steps before he came to a cluster of huge shells. He turned one over curiously. “Why, it’s a soup bowl,” whistled the Elegant Elephant. He rushed back with it to Pompadore, who still stood dreamily surveying the soup. “I never thought I’d be so thrilled by a common soup bowl,” thought Kabumpo, staring at the Prince in amusement. He stepped out on a rock and dipped up a bowl of the hot liquid. “Here! Drink!” commanded the Elegant Elephant, handing the bowl to the Prince. “Drink to the Proper Princess and the future Queen of Pumperdink.” “Don’t go,” begged the Prince between gulps, “I shall want two—three—several!” Kabumpo laughed good naturedly. “This is the pleasantest thing that has happened to us. Here! Have another!” Then both Pompa and the Elegant Elephant gasped, for out of the bubbling waves arose the most curious figure that they had ever seen—the most curious and the jolliest. He was made entirely of soup bones, and his head was a monster cabbage, with a soup bowl set jauntily on the side for a cap. For a cabbage head he sang very well and this was the song to which he kept time by waving a silver ladle: “Ho! I am the King of the Soup Sea, Yes, I am the King of the Deep; My crown is a bowl and my sceptre a ladle, I fell in the soup when I fell from the cradle, And find it exceedingly cheap! I stir it up nightly, and pepper it rightly— A liquid perfection you’ll find. And here is a roll, sirs, So fill up your bowl, sirs, And think of me after you’ve dined.” When he came to “dined,” the Soup King gave a playful leap and disappeared backward into the waves. Pompa rubbed his eyes and looked at Kabumpo to see whether he had been dreaming. “Oh!” cried Kabumpo, his eyes as round as little saucers. Floating gently toward them were two large, crisp, buttered rolls.