We were married on the morning of the third day. Such feasting, such dancing, such merriment,--and gifts innumerable; but the best gift of all was a doublet, made with his left hand by the One-Armed Sorcerer from the skin of the witch’s wasp’s nest, fastened by the witch’s ten buttons sewed on with the genie’s hair; a doublet to preserve the wearer from all harm. And this, as the wedding dinner was nearing its end, the One-Armed Sorcerer, rising in his place, presented to me with a pretty speech, for which I thanked him. “Sir,” said my father, addressing the One-Armed Sorcerer, “I invite you to remain with me at my court, to instruct my son in the mystery of handling a wife. Nobody but a sorcerer should undertake such a job. Will you try it?” “Alas, your majesty,” said the One-Armed Sorcerer, “it is far beyond my powers. And besides, I must return to my island home, on pressing business.” “Very well, then,” said my father. He took my bride’s hand in his and patted it, while she looked down in confusion. “My dear,” said he to her, “you must persuade your sisters to remain here with us. And as for your father, I design to appoint him Lord Treasurer of my kingdom. I think a Highwayman ought to be a good man to take charge of my money. Will you persuade him to accept that office?” “Oh!” cried the nine sisters, without giving my bride a chance to speak. “That _would_ be jolly! Oh, _wouldn’t_ it be jolly? It _will_ be just too perfectly jolly for anything, won’t it? But really, though, _won’t_ it be jolly? Just too simply, perfectly, adorably _jolly_!” “Your majesty,” said my father-in-law the Highwayman, rising up on his elderly legs,-- “Although I am not confident that I’m entirely competent, I thank you for the compliment, I thank you most sincerely; I fear I am not very quick in matters of arithmetic, but often when the answers stick I get them,--very nearly; And if at first I don’t succeed I try again, although indeed I cannot say I always heed Each wretched little fraction; And anyway you must agree if one but knows his Rule of Three there’s hardly any need to be Acquainted with subtraction. “I do not wish to seem to boast, of all things I detest it most, and yet I think I’d fill the post Not very ill, not very: From early youth I did betray, I’ve often heard my mother say, a really rather taking way In matters monetary; A simple little rule or two I always try to keep in view, to do what I am told to do, And always speak politely, And never make a saucy joke behind the backs of other folk, a rule which I have seldom broke, If I remember rightly.