them. So when they reached the porch in front of the palace the King
asked:

"My friend, what is good for corns?"

"Tight boots," replied the dog, laughing; "but they are not very good
for your feet."

Now the King, not yet having found his lost temper, became exceedingly
angry at this poor jest; so he rushed at the dog and gave it a
tremendous kick.

Up into the air like a ball flew the dog, while the King, having hurt
his toe by the kick, sat down on the door-step and nursed his foot
while he watched the dog go farther and farther up, until it seemed
like a tiny speck against the blue of the sky.

"I must have kicked harder than I thought," said the King, ruefully;
"there he goes, out of sight, and I shall never see him again!"

He now limped away into the back garden, where he picked a new pair of
boots that would not hurt his feet; and while he was gone the dog began
to fall down again. Of course he fell faster than he went up, and
finally landed with a crash exactly on the King's door-step. But so
great was the force of the fall and so hard the door-step that the poor
dog was flattened out like a pancake, and could not move a bit.

When the King came back he said:

"Hullo! some kind friend has brought me a new door-mat as a present,"