"That's just it," said the Count, pouring out his sixth cup of tea; "he didn't go anywhere. He turned three somersaults down the palace steps, and when they ran to pick him up there wasn't anybody to pick up."
"Then it must have been a Wymp," thought Lady Daffany, and she wandered out into the garden to think it all over.
"I wonder if I have really got the Wymps' gift instead of the Prince," she said to herself. Just then the Prince himself came through the bushes to find her. He no longer looked grave and unhappy, and there was a radiant look on his face.
"Don't you think I have been a very disagreeable Prince lately?" he whispered, as he stooped to kiss her.
"I think you are the dearest Prince in all the world," she answered, softly.
"All the same, the Royal Professor of Geography is an old bore, isn't he?" said the Prince.
"Oh no, I don't think so. He is only clever," answered Lady Daffany.
"But the Queen-Mother's hair is turning gray. Haven't you noticed it?" persisted the Prince.
"I really think you are mistaken, dearest," said Lady Daffany.
And she never found out whether she really had the Wymps' gift or not. But the Prince and the people loved her to the end of her days.