“But this isn’t enough,” said Fluff, when she had spread the cloak upon the floor and matched the pieces. “Where is the rest of the cloak?” “Why,—why—” stammered Dame Dingle, with hesitation, “I gave them away.” “Gave them away! Who got them?” said Bud. “Why,—some friends of mine were here from the village last evening, and we traded patches, so each of us would have a variety for our crazy-quilts.” “Well?” “And I gave each of them one of the patches from the pretty cloak.” “Well, you _are_ a ninny!” declared Bud, scornfully. “Yes, your Majesty; I believe I am,” answered Dame Dingle, meekly. “We must go to the village and gather up those pieces,” said Zixi. “Can you tell us the names of your friends?” she asked the woman. “Of course,” responded Dame Dingle; “they were Nancy Nink, Betsy Barx, Sally Sog, Molly Mitt, and Lucy Lum.” “Before we go to the village let us make Dame Dingle sew these portions of the cloak together,” suggested Fluff. The dame was glad enough to do this, and she threaded her needle at once. So deft and fine was her needlework that she mended the cloak most beautifully, so that from a short distance away no one could discover that the cloak had been darned. But a great square was still missing from the front, and our friends were now eager to hasten to the village. “This will cause us some delay,” said the witch-queen, more cheerfully; “but the cloak will soon be complete again, and then we can have our wishes.” Fluff took the precious cloak over her arm, and then they all mounted their horses and rode away toward the village, which Dame Dingle pointed out from her doorway. Zixi was sorry for the old creature, who had been more foolish than wicked; and the witch-queen left a bright gold piece in the woman’s hand when she bade her good-by, which was worth more to Dame Dingle than three pretty cloaks. The ground was boggy and uneven, so they were forced to ride slowly to the little village; but they arrived there at last, and began hunting for the old women who had received pieces of the magic cloak. They were easily found, and all seemed willing enough to give up their patches when the importance of the matter was explained to them. At the witch-queen’s suggestion, each woman fitted her patch to the cloak and sewed it on very neatly; but Lucy Lum, the last of the five, said to them: “This is only half of the patch Dame Dingle gave me. The other part I gave to the miller’s wife down in the valley where the river bends. But I am sure she will be glad to let you have it. See—it only requires that small piece to complete the cloak and make it as good as new.” It was true—the magic cloak, except for a small square at the bottom, was now complete; and such skillful needlewomen were these crazy-quilt makers that it was difficult to tell where it had been cut and afterward mended.