“That is all right,” said the dame, looking up at them through her spectacles; “the patches take twenty-one stitches on each side, and if I lose my count I get mixed up. But it’s all right now. What do you want?” “The cloak the old shepherd gave you,” replied the queen, sharply. “The pretty cloak with the bright colors?” asked the dame, calmly. “Yes! Yes!” answered the three, excitedly. “Why, that very patch I was sewing was cut from that cloak,” said Dame Dingle. “Isn’t it lovely? And it brightens the rest of the crazy-quilt beautifully.” “Do you mean that you have cut up my magic cloak?” asked Fluff, in amazement, while the others were too horrified to speak. “Certainly,” said the woman. “The cloak was too fine for me to wear, and I needed something bright in my crazy-quilt. So I cut up half of the cloak and made patches of it.” The witch-queen gave a gasp, and sat down suddenly upon a rickety bench. Princess Fluff walked to the door and stood looking out, that the others might not see the tears of disappointment in her eyes. Bud alone stood scowling in front of the old dame, and presently he said to her, in a harsh tone: “You ought to be smothered with your own crazy-quilt for daring to cut up the fairy cloak!” “The fairy cloak!” echoed Dame Dingle. “What do you mean?” “That cloak was a gift to my sister from the fairies,” said Bud; “and it had a magic charm. Aren’t you afraid the fairies will punish you for what you have done?” [Illustration: “‘WHERE IS THE CLOAK?’ CRIED THE THREE, IN A BREATH.”] Dame Dingle was greatly disturbed. “How could I know it?” she asked, anxiously; “how could I know it was a magic cloak that old Edi gave to me?” “Well, it was; and woven by the fairies themselves,” retorted the boy. “And a whole nation is in danger because you have wickedly cut it up.” Dame Dingle tried to cry, to show that she was sorry and so escape punishment. She put her apron over her face, and rocked herself back and forth, and made an attempt to squeeze a tear out of her eyes. Suddenly Zixi jumped up. “Why, it isn’t so bad, after all!” she exclaimed. “We can sew the cloak together again.” “Of course!” said Fluff, coming from the doorway. “Why didn’t we think of that at once?” “Where is the rest of the cloak?” demanded Zixi. Dame Dingle went to a chest and drew forth the half of the cloak that had not been cut up. There was no doubt about its being the magic cloak. The golden thread Queen Lulea had woven could be seen plainly in the web, and the brilliant colors were as fresh and lovely as ever. But the flowing skirt of the cloak had been ruthlessly hacked by Dame Dingle’s shears, and presented a sorry plight. “Get us the patches you have cut!” commanded Zixi; and without a word the dame drew from her basket five small squares and then ripped from the crazy-quilt the one she had just sewn on.