“It is really too bad!” exclaimed Zixi, with vexation. “Some one must have come through the grove and taken the cloak away.” “But we must find it,” said Bud, earnestly; “for otherwise I shall not be able to rescue my people from the Roly-Rogues.” “Let us inquire of every one we meet if they have seen the cloak,” suggested Princess Fluff. “In that way we may discover who has taken it.” So they made a camp on the edge of the grove, and for two days they stopped and questioned all who passed that way. But none had ever seen or heard of a cloak like that described. [Illustration: “‘WE HAVE LOST A BEAUTIFUL CLOAK IN THE LILAC-GROVE,’ SAID QUEEN ZIXI TO THE SHEPHERD.”] Finally an old shepherd came along, hobbling painfully after a flock of five sheep; for he suffered much from rheumatism. “We have lost a beautiful cloak in the lilac-grove,” said Zixi to the shepherd. “When did you lose it?” asked the old man, pausing to lean upon his stick. “Several days ago,” returned the queen. “It was bright as the rainbow, and woven with threads finer than—” “I know, I know!” interrupted the shepherd, “for I myself found it lying upon the ground beneath the lilac-trees.” “Hurrah!” cried Bud, gleefully; “at last we have found it!” And all the others were fully as delighted as he was. “But where have you put the cloak?” inquired Zixi. “Why, I gave it to Dame Dingle, who lives under the hill yonder,” replied the man, pointing far away over the fields; “and she gave me in exchange some medicine for my rheumatism, which has made the pain considerably worse. So to-day I threw the bottle into the river.” They did not pause to listen further to the shepherd’s talk, for all were now intent on reaching the cottage of Dame Dingle. So the soldiers saddled the horses, and in a few minutes they were galloping away toward the hill. It was a long ride, over rough ground; but finally they came near the hill and saw a tiny, tumbledown cottage just at its foot. Hastily dismounting, Bud, Fluff, and the queen rushed into the cottage, where a wrinkled old woman was bent nearly double over a crazy-quilt upon which she was sewing patches. “Where is the cloak?” cried the three, in a breath. The woman did not raise her head, but counted her stitches in a slow, monotonous tone. “Sixteen—seventeen—eighteen—” “Where is the magic cloak?” demanded Zixi, stamping her foot impatiently. “Nineteen—” said Dame Dingle, slowly. “There! I’ve broken my needle!” “Answer us at once!” commanded Bud, sternly. “Where is the magic cloak?” The woman paid no attention to him whatever. She carefully selected a new needle, threaded it after several attempts, and began anew to stitch the patch. “Twenty!” she mumbled in a low voice; “twenty-one—” But now Zixi snatched the work from her hands and exclaimed; “If you do not answer at once I will give you a good beating!”