“But did not the general escape danger?”
“Yes—at the expense of his reputation. So he retired to a farm and wore out the boots tramping up and down a country road and trying to decide why he had suddenly become such a coward.”
“The boots were worn by the wrong man, surely,” said the queen; “and that is why they proved a curse rather than a blessing. But we want no enchanted boots. Think of something else.”
“Suppose we weave a magic cloak,” proposed Espa, a sweet little fairy who had not before spoken.
“A cloak? Indeed, we might easily weave that,” returned the queen. “But what sort of magic powers must it possess?”
“Let its wearer have any wish instantly fulfilled,” said Espa, brightly.
“‘SUPPOSE WE WEAVE A MAGIC CLOAK.’”
But at this there arose quite a murmur of protest on all sides, which the queen immediately silenced with a wave of her royal hand.
“Our sister did not think of the probable consequences of what she suggested,” declared Lulea, smiling into the downcast face of little Espa, who seemed to feel rebuked by the disapproval of the others. “An instant’s reflection would enable her to see that such power would give the cloak’s mortal wearer as many privileges as we ourselves possess. And I suppose you intended the magic cloak for a mortal wearer?” she inquired.