to take care of him. They brought his coffin back in great state, and
buried it in the mausoleum with his parents.

So Prince Dolor was seen no more. The country went into deep mourning
for him, and then forgot him, and his uncle reigned in his stead. That
illustrious personage accepted his crown with great decorum, and wore it
with great dignity to the last. But whether he enjoyed it or not there
is no evidence to show.



CHAPTER III

And what of the little lame Prince, whom everybody seemed so easily to
have forgotten?

Not everybody. There were a few kind souls, mothers of families, who had
heard his sad story, and some servants about the palace, who had been
familiar with his sweet ways--these many a time sighed and said, "Poor
Prince Dolor!" Or, looking at the Beautiful Mountains, which were
visible all over Nomansland, though few people ever visited them, "Well,
perhaps his Royal Highness is better where he is than even there."

They did not know--indeed, hardly anybody did know--that beyond the
mountains, between them and the sea, lay a tract of country, barren,
level, bare, except for short, stunted grass, and here and there a patch
of tiny flowers. Not a bush--not a tree not a resting place for bird or
beast was in that dreary plain. In summer the sunshine fell upon it hour
after hour with a blinding glare; in winter the winds and rains swept
over it unhindered, and the snow came down steadily, noiselessly,