"Not particularly, thank you, godmother. I have my lessons to do, and my books to read." "And you want for nothing?" "Nothing. Yes, godmother, please bring me a little boy to play with?" "Just the thing, alas, which I cannot give you." His godmother took him in her arms and kissed him. By-and-by he kissed her at first awkwardly and shyly, then with all the strength of his warm little heart. "Promise me that you will never go away, godmother." "I must, but I will leave you a travelling cloak that will take you wherever you want to go, and show you all that you wish to see." "I don't need a cloak, for I never go out." "Hush! the nurse is coming." A grumpy voice and a rattle of plates and dishes was heard. "It's my nurse, bringing my dinner; but I don't want dinner. I only want you. Will her coming drive you away, godmother?" "Only for a while, only wish for me and I will return." When the door opened, Prince Dolor shut his eyes; opening them again, nobody but his nurse was in the room, as his godmother had melted away. "Such a heap of untidy books; and what's this rubbish?" said she, kicking a little bundle that lay beside them. "Give it to me," cried the Prince; and reaching after it, he hid it under his pinafore. It was, though she did not know this, his wonderful travelling-cloak. CHAPTER IV. The cloak outside, was the commonest looking bundle imaginable--Dolor touched it; it grew smaller, and he put it into his trouser's pocket and kept it there until he had a chance to look at it. It seemed but a mere piece of cloth, dark green in color, being worn and shabby, though not dirty. Prince Dolor examined it curiously; spread it out on the floor, then arranged it on his shoulders. It felt comfortable; but was the only shabby thing the Prince had ever seen in his life. "And what use will it be to me?" said he sadly, "and what in the world shall I do with it?" He folded it carefully and put it away in a safe corner of his toy-cupboard. After a time he nearly forgot the cloak and his godmother. Sometimes though, he recalled her sweet pleasant face; but as she never came, she gradually slipped out of his memory, until something happened which made him remember her, and want her as he had never wanted anything before. Prince Dolor fell ill. He caught a complaint common to the people of Nomansland, called the doldrums, which made him restless, cross and disagreeable. Even when a little better, he was too weak to enjoy anything, but lay all day alone. "I wonder what my godmother meant when she looked at my legs and sighed so bitterly? Why can't I walk like my nurse. It would be very nice to move about quickly or fly like a bird. How nice it must be to be a bird. If legs are no good, why can one not have wings? I am so tired and no one cares for me, except perhaps my godmother. Godmother, dear, have you forsaken me?"