“‘YES, YOUR MAJESTY, I AM LATE.’”
“All mortals are, I think, wearisome,” returned the fairy, with a sigh.
“And who is the new King of Noland?” asked Lulea.
“There is none,” answered Ereol. “The old king died without a single relative to succeed to his throne, and his five high counselors were in a great dilemma when I came away.”
“Well, my dear, you may rest and enjoy yourself for a period, in order to regain your old lightsome spirits. By and by I will appoint you guardian to some newly born babe, that your duties may be less arduous. But I am sorry you were not with us to-night, for we have had rare sport. See! we have woven a magic cloak.”
Ereol examined the garment with pleasure.
“And who is to wear it?” she asked.
Then again arose the good-natured dispute as to which mortal in all the world should possess the magic cloak. Finally the queen, laughing at the arguments of her band, said to them:
“Come! Let us leave the decision to the Man in the Moon. He has been watching us with a great deal of amusement, and once, I am sure, I caught him winking at us in quite a roguish way.”