“Well, I don’t. I prefer something to eat—something good and wholesome, such as you eat yourself,” growled Ruffles. The lord high steward gave a laugh. [Illustration: “‘WHY, I THOUGHT YOU LIKED BONES!’ PROTESTED TALLYDAB, SITTING ON THE BENCH AND LOOKING AT HIS DOG IN ASTONISHMENT.”] “Why,” said he, “don’t you remember that old Mother Hubbard?” “Ah! that _was_ a fairy tale,” interrupted Ruffles, impatiently. “And there wasn’t even a bone in her cupboard, after all. Don’t mention Mother Hubbard to me, if you want to retain my friendship.” “And that reminds me,” resumed the steward with a scowl, “that a few minutes ago you said I looked ridiculous in this lovely cloak.” “You do!” said Ruffles, with a sniff. “It is a girl’s cloak, and not fit for a wrinkled old man like you.” “I believe you are right,” answered Tallydab, with a sigh; and he removed the cloak from his shoulders and hung it over the back of the garden seat. “In regard to the meat that you so long for,” he added, “if you will follow me to the royal kitchen I will see that you have all you desire.” “Spoken like a good friend!” exclaimed the dog. “Let us go at once.” So they passed down the garden to the kitchen door, and the magic cloak, which had wrought such wonderful things that day, still remained neglectfully cast aside. It was growing dusk when old Tillydib, the lord high purse-bearer, stole into the garden and sat upon the bench to smoke his pipe in peace. All the afternoon he had been worried by people with bills for this thing or that, and the royal purse was very light indeed when Tillydib had at last managed to escape to the garden. “If this keeps up,” he reflected, “there will be no money left; and then I’m sure I don’t know what will become of us all!” The air was chilly. The old counselor shivered a little, and noting the cloak that lay over the back of the seat, drew it about his shoulders. “It will be five months,” he muttered half aloud, “before we can tax the people for more money; and before five months are up the king and his counselors may all starve to death—even in this splendid palace! Heigh-ho! I wish the royal purse would always remain full, no matter how much money I drew from it!” The big purse, which had lain lightly on his knee, now slid off and pulled heavily upon the golden chain which the old man wore around his neck to fasten the purse to him securely. Aroused from his anxious thoughts, Tillydib lifted the purse to his lap again, and was astonished to feel its weight. He opened the clasp and saw that the huge sack was actually running over with gold pieces. [Illustration: “‘I WISH THE ROYAL PURSE WOULD ALWAYS REMAIN FULL, NO MATTER HOW MUCH MONEY I DREW FROM IT!’”] “Now, where on earth did all this wealth come from?” he exclaimed, shaking his head in a puzzled way. “I’ll go at once and pay some of the creditors who are waiting for me.”