"It is no mistake," whispered the Fairy, "that is the right tree."
"Eh? What?" said the King. "Oh, yes, so it is, so it is. At first, it seemed to me that the syrup was not the same."
"Take some more," whispered the Wicked Fairy; and the King, still not knowing there was a Wicked Fairy there, did so, this time taking a deep draft.
"Bless my soul and body!" cried he this time. "I begin to feel very strange, very strange indeed. I feel really light-headed."
He looked down at his shadow, but the shadow still was there, keeping time with every motion, so that he felt much comforted.
"My shadow is just the same," said the King, "so everything must be all right. But, dear me, what is the matter with my leg?"
The King had, in stepping back from the tree, caught his foot between two roots, and now, instead of releasing his foot when he pulled at it, he saw, to his great surprise, that he was stretching his leg out to twice its natural length.
"Dear me!" he said, as he moved back and sat down on a log, looking in curiosity at his leg, which was now about ten or perhaps eleven feet long and much thinner than before. "Bless my soul and body! If I were not the King and quite wide-awake, I should say that something was happening to me, I should indeed. This impresses me as being most extraordinary. Where is my shadow?" He looked around and there was the shadow just the same, with its leg as long as his, which made the King again feel very much better.
"It does not hurt," said the King, shaking his head; and the shadow also shook its head to show that it was not in any pain.
"Take another drink," whispered the Wicked Fairy to the King.