“The Witch told me I was the only one who knew for sure she was not the Princess, so she would send me in search of Mrs. Tiptoe. ‘For,’ said the wicked creature, ‘by the time you find your wife, you will have learned better than to tell anyone that I am not the Princess!’
“And,” continued the Dancing Master, “without saying another word she opened her Magic Umbrella and pointed her crooked cane at me. I was forced to step into the Magic Umbrella. As I did so it shot out of the window so fast I could scarcely catch my breath. Over the town of Nite I flew and over the mountains I soared, until finally the Magic Umbrella lit upon the ground miles and miles away from everybody. It was days and days before I met anyone to talk to—awfully lonely life, but since then I have heard from people in different towns that the wicked creature still rules the City of Nite!” the Dancing Master finished, “but I have never ventured back there since she made me fly from the place.”
“And how long is it since you left the City of Nite?” Gran’ma inquired.
“I was forced to step into the Magic Umbrella.” (page [102])
The Dancing Master looked at the handle of his umbrella. “I have put a notch on the handle for each year,” he replied, and when he had counted them he said “Seventy-six years!”
“And you have never been able to find your wife?” asked Gran’pa.
The Dancing Master shook his head sadly.
“If we ever get to the City of Nite I will tweek the nose of that wicked Witch!” cried Gran’ma, as she snapped her fingers in the air.
“And if I have a good chance,” said the Soft-Voiced Cow, who had wandered up and had listened to the Dancing Master’s story, “I will raise my heels and upset her!”