“Prince,” said the Giant, “your education has been but slight, or else you would know that all kisses are made in Fairy-land. But shut your eyes and stir not.”
Then Little Boy did close his two eyes. At once he felt a tiny kiss from lips that might have been as long as one’s fingernail, and once he was kissed on each cheek and once on his chin, and then he felt faint for a moment. All was still for a while, until the Giant said: “You are lucky. Open your eyes, Fair Sir,” and went away.
Next day all the people came to see the King try Little Boy. When Little Boy saw his mother he was almost ready to cry, but he kept still and waited. Then the King said to her: “Tell me, is this your son? and do not deceive me, or dreadful things will happen to you and to him.”
At this the good woman looked at him with care. “This looks like my son,” she said; “but it is not my son, because this young man has a dimple on each cheek and one on his chin. Who ever saw any one with three dimples?”
When the King heard this and Little Boy’s father declared also that his lost son had no dimples, the King bade them all go free, and said he had been now nine years angry about those bricks, and that whoever would find the bad brick-maker should marry the Princess. When Prince Little Boy heard this he said that he was the bad boy who had made those bricks. But the King was as good as his word, and ordered that the Prince should marry the Princess, and not have his head cut off, because the Princess did wisely say that a husband with no head wasn’t much good as a husband. Therefore they were married that minute, and I have heard that they spent their honeymoon in Fairy-land. And this is the end of the Story of Prince Little Boy.
THE BEE-MAN OF ORN[E]
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON
In the ancient country of Orn there lived an old man who was called the Bee-man, because his whole time was spent in the company of bees. He lived in a small hut, which was nothing more than an immense bee-hive, for these little creatures had built their honeycombs in every corner of the one room it contained—on the shelves, under the little table, all about the rough bench on which the old man sat, and even about the head-board and along the sides of his low bed.