rightful heir. Thereupon she persuaded the deaf-mute to take her away
with him, and they galloped like the wind from city to city, spreading
everywhere the news that Prince Dolor's death and burial had been an
invention concocted by his wicked uncle that he was alive and well, and
the noblest young prince that ever was born.

It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. The country, weary perhaps of
the late King's harsh rule, and yet glad to save itself from the horrors
of the last few days, and the still further horrors of no rule at all,
and having no particular interest in the other young princes, jumped at
the idea of this Prince, who was the son of their late good King and the
beloved Queen Dolorez.

"Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let Prince Dolor be our sovereign!" rang from
end to end of the kingdom. Everybody tried to remember what a dear baby
he once was--how like his mother, who had been so sweet and kind, and
his father, the finest-looking king that ever reigned. Nobody remembered
his lameness--or, if they did, they passed it over as a matter of no
consequence. They were determined to have him reign over them, boy as
he was--perhaps just because he was a boy, since in that case the great
nobles thought they should be able to do as they liked with the country.

Accordingly, with a fickleness not confined to the people of Nomansland,
no sooner was the late King laid in his grave than they pronounced him
to have been a usurper; turned all his family out of the palace, and
left it empty for the reception of the new sovereign, whom they went
to fetch with great rejoicing, a select body of lords, gentlemen,
and soldiers traveling night and day in solemn procession through the
country until they reached Hopeless Tower.