“We will not take your crown from you, for I am Queen of five mighty Kingdoms. Therefore you shall keep yours, and one each will I give to your elder sons, while my husband and I will reign over the other three.” So every one was contented, and as for the Prince and his beautiful Princess, none ever ruled more wisely, nor were more beloved by their subjects than they were. * * * * * “And so they lived happy for ever and ever afterwards,” murmured Dolly, contentedly. “All nice fairy tales end that way, Impty.” But Impty only yawned, and arched his back lazily. Then he jumped down from the bed. “I am going to Cat-Land now,” he said, “to get you a story for to-morrow night. And I am going to sleep under the big arm-chair, near the door, so that I can slip out when Miss Jane comes in at seven o’clock. If she sees me, you know she might lock me up in the shed to-morrow night, and then, what _would_ we do?” And, in another minute, the little lonely child--not lonely any more, but very happy--and the black, black kitten were fast asleep. THE SECOND NIGHT Miss Jane must have been astonished at the willing way Dolly went to bed the next night. There never was a child more ready to be undressed; and although Miss Jane braided her hair in a tighter, lumpier braid than ever, Dolly never said a word. There was no need for the child to sit up in bed and stare at the light slanting through the shutters, as she thought how far away her mother was. Instead, she cuddled into her pillow contentedly, and as soon as Miss Jane was safely downstairs, Impty jumped up, and curled himself into a soft, black ball beside her. “To-night,” he began, “to-night I am going to tell you the tale of ‘The King of the Field-Mice.’” [Illustration: THE KING OF THE FIELD MICE ] There was, once upon a time, long, long ago in Japan, a very poor man, a gardener named Chúgoro Yamakawa, who, with his wife, Ino-yo San, lived in a little cottage on a small plot of ground. All that they had to eat they raised in their garden, and their clothes were bought by the money that the old man made in selling his vegetables and fruits from door to door. Their only treasure was their cat Tamá, a large, sleek fellow, and the finest mouser in the whole neighborhood. Every day, when Chúgoro went to work in his garden, Tamá trotted after him, and rubbed up against him, as if to say, “My dear Master! How I wish that I could help you!” Well, one day, as Chúgoro was digging around his young bamboo trees, Tamá came bounding through the grass with something in his mouth. The old man looked down, and saw that it was a pretty little field-mouse, and, as he was a very kind-hearted man, he took it away from the cat, who seemed perfectly contented, and trotted off as if his business was done.