“Could you give me something to cure my rheumatism?” he asked.
“Oh, yes; easily.”
“Then it’s a bargain. I’ll start the dog at once. What color of glass shall I use?”
“Pink is a pretty color,” said the wizard, “and it’s unusual for a dog, isn’t it?”
“Very,” answered the glass-blower; “but it shall be pink.”
So the wizard went back to his studies and the glass-blower began to make the dog.
Next morning he entered the wizard’s room with the glass dog under his arm and set it carefully upon the table. It was a beautiful pink in color, with a fine coat of spun glass, and about its neck was twisted a blue glass ribbon. Its eyes were specks of black glass and sparkled intelligently, as do many of the glass eyes worn by men.
The wizard expressed himself pleased with the glass-blower’s skill and at once handed him a small vial.
“This will cure your rheumatism,” he said.
“But the vial is empty!” protested the glass-blower.