differing doctors, had proposed leaving him to Nature; and Nature, the
safest doctor of all, had come to his help and done her best.

He could not walk, it is true; his limbs were mere useless appendages to
his body; but the body itself was strong and sound. And his face was the
same as ever--just his mother's face, one of the sweetest in the world.

Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes looked at the little
fellow with sad tenderness, noticing how cleverly he learned to crawl
and swing himself about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way he
was as active in motion as most children of his age.

"Poor little man! he does his best, and he is not unhappy--not half
so unhappy as I, brother," addressing the Crown-Prince, who was more
constant than ever in his attendance upon the sick monarch. "If anything
should befall me, I have appointed you Regent. In case of my death, you
will take care of my poor little boy?"

"Certainly, certainly; but do not let us imagine any such misfortune.
I assure your Majesty--everybody will assure you--that it is not in the
least likely."

He knew, however, and everybody knew, that it was likely, and soon after
it actually did happen. The King died as suddenly and quietly as the
Queen had done--indeed, in her very room and bed; and Prince Dolor was
left without either father or mother--as sad a thing as could happen,
even to a prince.

He was more than that now, though. He was a king. In Nomansland, as in
other countries, the people were struck with grief one day and revived