or good.

"What is the matter with him?" asked the Prince.

"He is dead," said the Magpie, with a croak.

No, there was not the least use in being angry with him now. On the
contrary, the Prince felt almost sorry for him, except that he looked
so peaceful with all his cares at rest. And this was being dead? So even
kings died?

"Well, well, he hadn't an easy life, folk say, for all his grandeur.
Perhaps he is glad it is over. Good-by, your Majesty."

With another cheerful tap of her beak, Mistress Mag shut down the little
door in the tiles, and Prince Dolor's first and last sight of his uncle
was ended.

He sat in the center of his traveling-cloak, silent and thoughtful.

"What shall we do now?" said the magpie. "There's nothing much more to
be done with his majesty, except a fine funeral, which I shall certainly
go and see. All the world will. He interested the world exceedingly when
he was alive, and he ought to do it now he's dead--just once more.
And since he can't hear me, I may as well say that, on the whole, his
majesty is much better dead than alive--if we can only get somebody
in his place. There'll be such a row in the city presently. Suppose we
float up again and see it all--at a safe distance, though. It will be
such fun!"