THE STORY OF THE MAGIC DOUBLET
“When I was a young man,” said my father,—
“Please excuse me, Solario,” said Prince Bilbo; “don’t you think it might be better to go on with the main story, without stopping to—”
“Really, I think it would,” said the Princess Dorobel.
“Oh, mother!” said Bojohn.
“If it is your pleasure,” said Solario, “I will omit the story of the magic doublet for the present.”
“I really think it would be better,” said the Princess Dorobel.
“Oh, shucks,” said Bojohn to Bodkin, in a whisper.
“This is the doublet,” said my father when he had finished his story, “which, as I have told you, was made by the One-Armed Sorcerer with his left hand. Prepare now for your journey, my son, and good fortune attend you.”
All that day I spent in preparation, and early on the next morning I set forth for the city of Oogh. My daughter, the Princess Amadore, implored me to take her with me. She was ever of an ardent and adventurous spirit, and she would not listen to my objections on the score of danger. She usually had her way with me, and I knew from the first that there was no use in resisting her entreaties; and the upshot of it was that I yielded, though much against my judgment.