In the middle of the floor of the largest room of the baby-house were all the Court, gathered about the old King, who had fallen in a faint from hunger. "He is starved!" cried the Queen, in a piercing wee voice of anguish. "I am starving myself!" roared the Lord Chamberlain, in a keen though tiny roar. "We are all starving!" shrieked the whole Court, in voices more or less audible. "Well," Vance said, looking at the affliction of the little people, "I must say this is extremely disagreeable of them all to be starving. They always are starving." "Very," the old woman echoed, with a sneering chuckle. As she spoke, she took from beneath her faded cloak a basket in which were delicate white cakes, fruits, and honey. These she began to eat with great relish, apparently not at all interested in the Prince or his family. "Come, now," cried he, "give me some of that! My Court is half dead." "Really?" she returned, coolly munching away. "Yes," shouted Vance, vainly attempting to snatch something from the well-filled basket, "and I must have a cake to feed them on." The old lady made no resistance, but only flitted up like a bird, in some unaccountable way, to a limb of a tree, where she sat eating as placidly as ever. "Goodness!" said poor Vance, startled half out of his wits, "are you Godmother too? You shy about just like her." "She is a friend of mine," answered the old woman. "I know all about you, too, for that matter." There was nothing left for Vance but to beg for pity, and at last the strange creature threw him down half a small cake. "There's plenty for your family." Vance provided for his little people, and then began humbly to beg for a few morsels for himself. "Wait," said the woman on the bough overhead, "till I see what there is in the pantry." She disappeared with great suddenness; but presently a little window opened in the side of the tree trunk, from which the wrinkled old face looked out. [Illustration] "Here are a few dry crusts from the closet," she said. "You may have them. With a little honey I think they will go very well." She handed two or three mouldy scraps of bread out as she spoke, which Vance took with as good grace as he could muster. "Where is the honey?" he asked, eying his crusts ruefully. "Oh, I'll eat the honey while you eat the crusts," was the answer. "That is by far the best way to arrange it." "You are mean enough, I hope," he exclaimed angrily. But, alas! at the word the crusts left his grasp and appeared in the hand of the old woman. "Oh, very well," she said, "just as you please! You are not obliged to have them, of course." Poor Vance was ready to cry with vexation and hunger, and quite broke down at this last misfortune. He begged so humbly for the crusts that at last the queer old crone relented and gave them back; and never did anything taste sweeter to him than these dry and mouldy morsels of bread.