"A lark, for instance," cried Prince Dolor.
"Or a Magpie," answered she with a capital imitation of Mag's croaky voice.
"You will not leave me now that I am king? Otherwise I had rather not be a king at all," said he.
The little old woman laughed gaily. "Forsake you? That is impossible. But now I must go. Good-bye! Open the window and out I fly."
Prince Dolor tried to hold his godmother fast, but in vain. A knocking was heard at the door, and the little woman vanished.
His godmother helped him out of many difficulties for there was never such a wise old woman.
He was very happy and contented; first, because he took his affliction patiently; second, because being a brave man, he bore it bravely. Therefore other people grew to love him so well, that I think hundreds of his subjects might have been found who were almost ready to die for their poor lame king.
He did a good many things, however, which a little astonished his subjects. First, he pardoned the condemned woman, who had been his nurse and ordered that there should be no such thing as the death punishment in Nomansland.
Then he chose the eldest son of his eldest cousin, a quiet, unobtrusive boy, to be educated as heir to the throne.
In course of time, when the little prince had grown into a tall young man, King Dolor fixed a day when the people should assemble in the great square of the capital to see the young prince installed solemnly in his new duties.