First, there were the flowers that grew on the plain, which, whenever the cloak came near enough, he strained his eyes to look at; they were tiny, but very beautiful. "I wonder," he thought, "whether I could see better through a pair of glasses like those my nurse reads with, and takes such care of. How I should take care of them too! if only I had a pair!" Immediately he felt a pair of the prettiest gold spectacles ever seen; and looking downwards, he found that, though ever so high above the ground, he could see every blade of grass, every tiny bud and flower--nay, even the insects that walked over them. "Thank you, thank you!" he cried to his dear godmother, whom he felt sure had sent them. He amused himself for ever so long, gazing down upon the grass, every square foot of which was a mine of wonders. Then, just to rest his eyes, he turned them up to the sky, at which he had looked so often and seen nothing. Now he saw a long, black wavy line, moving on in the distance. Looking at it through his spectacles, he discovered that it was a long string of birds, flying one after the other, their wings moving steadily and their heads pointed in one direction, as steadily as if each were a little ship. "They must be the passage-birds flying seaward!" cried the boy, who had read a little about them. "Oh! how I should like to see them quite close, and to know where they come from, and where they are going!" The cloak gave a sudden bound forward, and he found himself high up in the air, in the very midst of the birds. "Oh I wish I were going with you, you lovely creatures!" cried the boy. "I'm getting so tired of this dull plain, and the dreary and lonely tower. I do so want to see the world! Pretty swallows, dear swallows, tell me what it looks like--the beautiful, wonderful world!" But the birds flew past and the boy looked after them with envy. Then he settled himself down in the centre of the cloak, feeling quite sad and lonely. "I think I'll go home," said he, and repeated his "Abracadabra, tum tum, ti!" with a rather heavy heart. The more he had, the more he wanted. He did not like to vex his godmother by calling for her, and telling her how unhappy he was, in spite of all her goodness; so he just kept his trouble to himself, went back to his lonely tower, and spent three days there without attempting another journey on his traveling-cloak. CHAPTER VI. The fourth day it happened that the deaf mute paid his accustomed visit, after which Prince Dolor's spirits rose. They always did, when he got the new books, which the King of Nomansland regularly sent to his nephew. He paid no attention to the toys which were brought, as he considered himself a big boy. Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at the mute's horse which was feeding at the foot of the tower and thought how grand it must be to get upon its back and ride away. "Suppose I was a knight," he said to himself; "then I should be obliged to ride out and see the world."