“If I were only a _white_ prince!” said he, with a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. Then the parrot, talking in a small, high voice like a little girl, said aloud, “Bumpo, some one might turn thee into a white prince perchance.” The King’s son started up off the seat and looked all around. “What is this I hear?” he cried. “Methought the sweet music of a fairy’s silver voice rang from yonder bower! Strange!” “Worthy Prince,” said Polynesia, keeping very still so Bumpo couldn’t see her, “thou sayest winged words of truth. For ’tis I, Tripsitinka, the Queen of the Fairies, that speak to thee. I am hiding in a rose-bud.” “Oh tell me, Fairy-Queen,” cried Bumpo, clasping his hands in joy, “who is it can turn me white?” “In thy father’s prison,” said the parrot, “there lies a famous wizard, John Dolittle by name. Many things he knows of medicine and magic, and mighty deeds has he performed. Yet thy kingly father leaves him languishing long and lingering hours. Go to him, brave Bumpo, secretly, when the sun has set; and behold, thou shalt be made the whitest prince that ever won fair lady! I have said enough. I must now go back to Fairyland. Farewell!” “Farewell!” cried the Prince. “A thousand thanks, good Tripsitinka!” And he sat down on the seat again with a smile upon his face, waiting for the sun to set. _THE TWELFTH CHAPTER_ MEDICINE AND MAGIC VERY, very quietly, making sure that no one should see her, Polynesia then slipped out at the back of the tree and flew across to the prison. She found Gub-Gub poking his nose through the bars of the window, trying to sniff the cooking-smells that came from the palace-kitchen. She told the pig to bring the Doctor to the window because she wanted to speak to him. So Gub-Gub went and woke the Doctor who was taking a nap. “Listen,” whispered the parrot, when John Dolittle’s face appeared: “Prince Bumpo is coming here to-night to see you. And you’ve got to find some way to turn him white. But be sure to make him promise you first that he will open the prison-door and find a ship for you to cross the sea in.” “This is all very well,” said the Doctor. “But it isn’t so easy to turn a black man white. You speak as though he were a dress to be re-dyed. It’s not so simple. ‘Shall the leopard change his spots, or the Ethiopian his skin,’ you know?” “I don’t know anything about that,” said Polynesia impatiently. “But you _must_ turn this coon white. Think of a way—think hard. You’ve got plenty of medicines left in the bag. He’ll do anything for you if you change his color. It is your only chance to get out of prison.” “Well, I suppose it _might_ be possible,” said the Doctor. “Let me see—,” and he went over to his medicine-bag, murmuring something about “liberated chlorine on animal-pigment—perhaps zinc-ointment, as a temporary measure, spread thick—” Well, that night Prince Bumpo came secretly to the Doctor in prison and said to him,