"Yes, I am a prince, and my name is Dolor; will you tell me yours, madam?"
The little old woman laughed like a chime of silver bells.
"I have not got a name—or rather, I have so many names that I don't know which to choose. However, it was I who gave you yours, and you will belong to me all your days. I am your godmother."
"Hurrah!" cried the little prince; "I am glad I belong to you, for I like you very much. Will you come and play with me?"
So they sat down together, and played. By-and-by they began to talk.
"Are you very dull here?" asked the little old woman.
"Not particularly, thank you, godmother. I have plenty to eat and drink, and my lessons to do, and my books to read—lots of books."
"And you want nothing?"
"Nothing. Yes—perhaps—If you please, godmother, could you bring me just one more thing?"
"What sort of thing?"