It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. People jumped at the idea of this Prince, who was the son of their late good King and Queen.
"Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let him be our king!" rang from end to end of the kingdom. They were determined to have him reign over them. Accordingly no sooner was the late king laid in his grave than they pronounced him a usurper; turned all his family out of the palace, and left it empty for the reception of the new sovereign, whom they went to fetch with great rejoicing.
They hailed him with delight, as prince and king and went down on their knees before him, offering the crown to him.
"Yes," he said, "if you desire it, I will be your king. And I will do my best to make my people happy."
"Oh!" said he, "if before I go, I could only see my dear godmother." He gazed sadly up to the skylight, whence there came pouring a stream of sunrays like a bridge between heaven and earth. Sliding down it, came the little woman in grey.
He held out his arms in eager delight.
"Oh, godmother, you have not forsaken me!"
"Not at all my son. You may not have seen me, but I have seen you many a time."
"How?"
"Oh, never mind. I can turn into anything I please you know."