“Why,—some friends of mine were here from the village last evening, and we traded patches, so each of us would have a variety for our crazy-quilts.”
“Well?”
“And I gave each of them one of the patches from the pretty cloak.”
“Well, you are a ninny!” declared Bud, scornfully.
“Yes, your Majesty; I believe I am,” answered Dame Dingle, meekly.
“We must go to the village and gather up those pieces,” said Zixi. “Can you tell us the names of your friends?” she asked the woman.
“Of course,” responded Dame Dingle; “they were Nancy Nink, Betsy Barx, Sally Sog, Molly Mitt, and Lucy Lum.”
“Before we go to the village let us make Dame Dingle sew these portions of the cloak together,” suggested Fluff.
The dame was glad enough to do this, and she threaded her needle at once. So deft and fine was her needlework that she mended the cloak most beautifully, so that from a short distance away no one could discover that the cloak had been darned. But a great square was still missing from the front, and our friends were now eager to hasten to the village.
“This will cause us some delay,” said the witch-queen, more cheerfully; “but the cloak will soon be complete again, and then we can have our wishes.”