"So I see," replied the little king. "But how did you get here?"

"Didn't you burn the paper?" demanded the round man, by way of
answer.

"Yes, I did," acknowledged the king.

"Then you are in trouble, and I've come to help you out of it. I'm
the Slave of the Royal Bedstead."

"Oh!" said the king. "I didn't know there was one."

"Neither did your father, or he would not have been so foolish as to
sell everything he had for money. By the way, it's lucky for you he
did not sell this bedstead. Now, then, what do you want?"

"I'm not sure what I want," replied the king; "but I know what I
don't want, and that is the old woman who is going to marry me."

"That's easy enough," said the Slave of the Royal Bedstead. "All you
need do is to return her the money she paid the chief counselor and
declare the match off. Don't be afraid. You are the king, and your
word is law."

"To be sure," said the majesty. "But I am in great need of money.
How am I going to live if the chief counselor returns to Mary Ann
Brodjinski her millions?"

"Phoo! that's easy enough," again answered the man, and, putting his