"What a muddle your Royal Highness is sitting in," said she sharply.
"Such a heap of untidy books; and what's this rubbish?" knocking a
little bundle that lay beside them.

"Oh, nothing, nothing--give it me!" cried the Prince, and, darting after
it, he hid it under his pinafore, and then pushed it quickly into his
pocket. Rubbish as it was, it was left in the place where she sat, and
might be something belonging to her--his dear, kind godmother, whom
already he loved with all his lonely, tender, passionate heart.

It was, though he did not know this, his wonderful traveling-cloak.



CHAPTER IV

And what of the traveling-cloak? What sort of cloak was it, and what A
good did it do the Prince?

Stay, and I'll tell you all about it. Outside it was the
commonest-looking bundle imaginable--shabby and small; and the instant
Prince Dolor touched it, it grew smaller still, dwindling down till he
could put it in his trousers pocket, like a handkerchief rolled up into
a ball. He did this at once, for fear his nurse should see it, and kept
it there all day--all night, too. Till after his next morning's lessons
he had no opportunity of examining his treasure.

When he did, it seemed no treasure at all; but a mere piece of
cloth--circular in form, dark green in color--that is, if it had any