and fell at his feet.

Prince Ferdinand William Otto bent down and picked it up. It was
a small toy aeroplane, with yellow silk planes, guy-ropes of
waxed thread, and a wooden rudder, its motive power vested in a
tightly twisted rubber. One of the wings was bent. Ferdinand
William Otto straightened it, and looked around for the owner.

A small boy was standing under the next gas-lamp. "Gee!" he said
in English. "Did you see it go that time?"

Prince Ferdinand William Otto eyed the stranger. He was about
his own age, and was dressed in a short pair of corduroy
trousers, much bloomed at the knee, a pair of yellow
Russia-leather shoes that reached well to his calves, and, over
all, a shaggy white sweater, rolling almost to his chin. On the
very back of his head he had the smallest cap that Prince
Ferdinand William Otto had ever seen.

Now, this was exactly the way in which the Crown Prince had
always wished to dress. He was suddenly conscious of the long
trousers on his own small legs, of the ignominy of his tailless
Eton jacket and stiff, rolling collar, of the crowning disgrace
of his derby hat. But the lonely feeling had gone from him.

"This is the best time for flying," he said, in his perfect
English. "All the exhibition flights are at sundown."

The boy walked slowly over and stood looking down at him. "You
ought to see it fly from the top of Pike's Peak!" he remarked.