“Back, Goolk!” said Babadag. “Now, false peddler that you are, be no longer either a prince or a peddler, but a spider,--a black spider!--and take your place with Goolk in the web! Change!” I felt no change, and I heard another snort of rage from Babadag. “Some charm!” he muttered. “Some charm protects him! Let us see what charm this lying stranger carries upon him.” I felt that my smock was being lifted from my breast, and I heard a kind of gasp from Babadag. “The doublet!” he said. “It is plain! Off with the doublet!” And immediately fingers were at my breast, trying to unbutton the doublet. But they could not unbutton it. Not a button would come through its hole. “Fetch me a pair of shears, rascals,” said Babadag, and in a moment I knew that shears were snapping away at my doublet. But it was no use; the blade would not cut, neither the thread of the buttons nor the cloth; they held like iron at every point. I heard the shears drop to the floor. “The Shears of Sharpness! Bring me the Shears of Sharpness!” said Babadag. “Nothing else will cut this doublet.” I heard a chuckle, and the voice of one of the ballad singers said, “The Shears of Sharpness, brothers!” And there was another chuckle. “What!” said Babadag. “You laugh, rascals? You dare to laugh?” “The Shears of Sharpness!” said the voice of one of the ballad singers. “Where are the Shears of Sharpness, brothers?” And at this there was a very considerable tittering. “Ask the fair lady, brother,” said the voice of another of the ballad singers. “She knows! The wonderful lady!” said the voice of the third. “Ineffable scoundrels!” said Babadag. “Have you stolen my Shears?” “No, no! Only borrowed them! What harm in that?” said the ballad singers. “Return them to me at once!” said Babadag. I could hear the ballad singers chuckling together again. “We would, we would,” said one of them, “we meant to, but--” “But what, beast?” “She has them,” said one of the three. “The most wonderful of women,” said another. “She who swore she would marry one of us,” said the third. _The Prince’s Daughter Has Beguiled the Shears of Sharpness from the Ballad Singers_ My daughter! My own daughter! She had beguiled the Shears from these foolish vagabonds! Or had they let her have the Shears for some purpose of their own--to help their brother, say? I was quite bewildered. “Oh, that I should let such scoundrels live!” said Babadag, fiercely. “Where is this woman?” “But she wouldn’t marry us unless we gave her the Shears,” said one of the ballad singers. “No harm in that!” “No harm in that, surely!” said the other two. “Where is this woman?” said Babadag again. “We left her,” said one of the others, “by the dry fountain at the governor’s palace.” “Accursed,” said Babadag, evidently addressing the eight tailors, “pick up this peddler and follow me. We must find the Shears. You, imbeciles that you are, I will deal with you afterward. Goolk, back to your web!”