The King sat in his Hall of Justice next morning, and the old woman and the Princes came before him. When the story had been told, he said—
“My dear fellows, I hope you’ll excuse me—the laws of hospitality are strict—but business is business after all. I should not like to have any constitutional unpleasantness over a little thing like this; you must all be hanged to-morrow morning.”
The Princes were extremely vexed, but they did not make a fuss. They asked to see Denis, and told him what to do.
So Denis went to the furnished house which had once been a Select Boarding Establishment for the Daughters of Respectable Monarchs. The door was locked, but Denis knew a way in, because his sister had told him all about it one holiday. He got up on the roof and walked down the schoolroom chimney.
There, on the schoolroom floor, lay half a Professor of Magic, struggling feebly, and uttering sad, faint squeals.
“What are we to do now?” said Denis.
“Steal apples,” said the half-Professor in a weak whisper. “Do let my legs out. Slice up the Great Bear—or the Milky Way would be a good one for them to come out by.”
But Denis knew better.
“Not till we get the lost Princesses,” said he, “now, what’s to be done?”
“Steal apples I tell you,” said the half-Professor, crossly; “seven apples—there—seven kisses. Cut them down. Oh go along with you, do. Leave me to die, you heartless boy. I’ve got pins and needles in my legs.”