Vance stood on one foot awhile, and then on the other. He counted the white doves upon the peaked roof, and watched a small old lady who was gathering herbs in the tiny garden beside the house; but he was very careful not to speak. At last his patience was rewarded. The Wizard opened his eyes and spoke. "The reason," he said very slowly, "that a sausage cannot walk is that it has no legs. You can understand that, can't you?" "Oh, certainly!" replied the Prince, politely. He was extremely anxious not to say anything to make the Wizard angry. "Well, then," returned the Wizard, "don't pretend that you can't, that's all." For some time longer the Wizard made tatting in silence; then once again he spoke. "The reason," he said gravely, "that a horse has no trunk is because it is not an elephant. Can you see the philosophy of that?" "Yes, your--" "Majesty," the Prince was about to say, in his eagerness to be polite; but he changed his mind just in time, and said courteously, "Yes, your Wizardship." This appeared to please the Wizard, for he bent his head three times and invited the Prince in to tea. The table was already spread; and seated about it were the old lady Vance had seen herb-gathering, and nine black cats with green eyes, peaked caps, and nice white napkins under their chins. The Wizard placed a chair for the Prince. "This is my wife," he said, waving his hand toward the tiny old lady. "She is a professional witch. She eats nothing but grasshoppers gathered when the moon is full." The Wizard here lowered his voice mysteriously and bent toward Vance. "Economical," he said, "very economical. She hardly costs me a groat a year, except for her high-heeled shoes; those come dear, but she must have them, being a professional witch, you know. Now, as to these cats, how many lives should you guess they had among them, eh?" "I have heard," replied the Prince, "that every cat has nine lives, so I should think that there must be eighty-one lives here." "You'd be wrong, then," said the Wizard, "for some of these cats have only one or two lives left. I keep 'em, you understand, so that when folks lose their lives, all they have to do is to come to me and I can sell them new ones from the cats." "Do the cats like it?" asked Vance. "They don't mind," replied the Wizard. "Anyhow, they know they've all got to come to it. When the last life is gone, a cat turns into a wind; you've heard them of a March night, yowling about the castle turrets." "The moon," said the witch, speaking for the first time, "being probably if not otherwise added to this whose salt, magnifying." "You are right, my dear," said the Wizard, "as you always are. The boy _is_ better off in bed." Upon this the Wizard left the table and led Vance to a neat little bed-chamber, where he bade him good-night. The Prince, having opened his box to give his family some air, lay down and enjoyed the first night of slumber in a bed which he had known since leaving the palace.