Here the poor Dancing Master fell to weeping so violently the Princess came and placed her arm over his shoulder, and Gran’pa and Gran’ma looked far across the valley, their eyes swimming in tears. When the Dancing Master had dried his eyes he continued, “We found many charms and implements of magic. Rabbit’s feet, and other things of the kind. Then, too, in corners and upon shelves about the room were jars of peculiar powder with labels which we could not read pasted upon them. In the center of the room was an iron kettle and queer designs had been traced about on the marble floor with black, green and yellow paint. “‘I knew she was a witch!’ my wife cried. ‘Go call the Guards while I wait here to see that she does not escape!’ “I ran out of the castle in hopes that I might bring the Guards and place them in the room before the old witch returned. But try as hard as I could, I could not find a Guard anywhere; they had all gone to parties or were off on their vacations, so I ran back to the castle. ‘We will capture the Witch ourselves!’ I cried as I ran into the Witch’s room. “I expected to see Mrs. Tiptoe sitting there with a stern expression on her face, just waiting for the Witch’s return, but what was my surprise and consternation to see the Witch herself leering at me with her wicked smile. “The Witch told me I was the only one who knew for sure she was not the Princess, so she would send me in search of Mrs. Tiptoe. ‘For,’ said the wicked creature, ‘by the time you find your wife, you will have learned better than to tell anyone that I am not the Princess!’ “And,” continued the Dancing Master, “without saying another word she opened her Magic Umbrella and pointed her crooked cane at me. I was forced to step into the Magic Umbrella. As I did so it shot out of the window so fast I could scarcely catch my breath. Over the town of Nite I flew and over the mountains I soared, until finally the Magic Umbrella lit upon the ground miles and miles away from everybody. It was days and days before I met anyone to talk to—awfully lonely life, but since then I have heard from people in different towns that the wicked creature still rules the City of Nite!” the Dancing Master finished, “but I have never ventured back there since she made me fly from the place.” “And how long is it since you left the City of Nite?” Gran’ma inquired. [Illustration: “I was forced to step into the Magic Umbrella.” (page 102)] The Dancing Master looked at the handle of his umbrella. “I have put a notch on the handle for each year,” he replied, and when he had counted them he said “Seventy-six years!” “And you have never been able to find your wife?” asked Gran’pa. The Dancing Master shook his head sadly. “If we ever get to the City of Nite I will tweek the nose of that wicked Witch!” cried Gran’ma, as she snapped her fingers in the air.