pallets, and wanted to go to court; and all the rest of them likewise.
Poor little Red Riding-hood sobbed and sobbed because she couldn't go
and carry her basket to her grandmother, and as she didn't have any
grandmother she couldn't go, of course, and her parents were very much
doubled. It was all so mysterious and dreadful. The news spread very
rapidly over the city, and soon a great crowd gathered around the new
Costumer's shop for every one thought he must be responsible for all
this mischief.

The shop door was locked; but they soon battered it down with stones.
When they rushed in the Costumer was not there; he had disappeared with
all his wares. Then they did not know what to do. But it was evident
that they must do something before long for the state of affairs was
growing worse and worse.

The Mayor's little daughter braced her back up against the tapestried
wall, and planted her two feet in their thick shoes firmly. "I will go
and tend my geese," she kept crying. "I won't eat my breakfast. I won't
go out in the park. I won't go to school. I'm going to tend my geese--I
will, I will, I will!"

And the princesses trailed their rich trains over the rough unpainted
floors in their parents' poor little huts, and held their crowned heads
very high and demanded to be taken to court. The princesses were mostly
geese-girls when they were their proper selves, and their geese were
suffering, and their poor parents did not know what they were going to
do and they wrung their hands and wept as they gazed on their
gorgeously apparelled children.

Finally the Mayor called a meeting of the Aldermen, and they all