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indeed. Whoever takes the powder will become the most beautiful person in the world.”

      “If you will offer that as a reward,” said the glassblower, eagerly, “I’ll try to find the dog for you, for above everything else I long to be beautiful.”

      “But I warn you the beauty will only be skin deep,” said the wizard.

      “That’s all right,” replied the happy glass-blower; “when I lose my skin I shan’t care to remain beautiful.”

      “Then tell me where to find my dog and you shall have the powder,” promised the wizard.

      So the glass-blower went out and pretended to search, and by-and-by he returned and said:

      “I’ve discovered the dog. You will find him in the mansion of Miss Mydas.”

      The wizard went at once to see if this were true, and, sure enough, the glass dog ran out and began barking at him. Then the wizard spread out his hands and chanted a magic spell which sent the dog fast asleep, when he picked him up and carried him to his own room on the top floor of the tenement house.

      Afterward he carried the Beauty Powder to the glassblower as a reward, and the fellow immediately swallowed it and became the most beautiful man in the world.

      The next time he called upon Miss Mydas there was no dog to bark at him, and when the young lady saw him she fell in love with his beauty at once.

      “If only you were a count or a prince,” she sighed, “I’d willingly marry you.”

      “But I am a prince,” he answered; “the Prince of Dogblowers.”

      “Ah!” said she; “then if you are willing to accept an allowance of four dollars a week I’ll order the wedding cards engraved.”

      The man hesitated, but when he thought of the rope hanging from his bedpost he consented to the terms.

      So they were married, and the bride was very jealous of her husband’s beauty and led him a dog’s life[21]. So he managed to get into debt and made her miserable in turn.

* * *

      As for the glass dog, the wizard set him barking again by means of his wizardness and put him outside his door. I suppose he is there yet, and am rather sorry, for I should like to consult the wizard about the moral to this story.

      The Queen of Quok

      A king once died, as kings are apt to do, being as liable to shortness of breath[22] as other mortals.

      It was high time this king abandoned his earth life, for he had lived in a sadly extravagant manner, and his subjects could spare him without the slightest inconvenience.

      His father had left him a full treasury, both money and jewels being in abundance. But the foolish king just deceased had squandered every penny in riotous living. He had then taxed his subjects until most of them became paupers, and this money vanished in more riotous living. Next he sold all the grand old furniture in the palace; all the silver and gold plate and bric-à-brac; all the rich carpets and furnishings and even his own kingly wardrobe, reserving only a soiled and moth-eaten ermine robe to fold over his threadbare raiment. And he spent the money in further riotous living.

      Don’t ask me to explain what riotous living is. I only know, from hearsay[23], that it is an excellent way to get rid of money. And so this spendthrift king found it.

      He now picked all the magnificent jewels from this kingly crown and from the round ball on the top of his scepter, and sold them and spent the money. Riotous living, of course. But at last he was at the end of his resources. He couldn’t sell the crown itself, because no one but the king had the right to wear it. Neither could he sell the royal palace, because only the king had the right to live there.

      So, finally, he found himself reduced to a bare palace, containing only a big mahogany bedstead that he slept in, a small stool on which he sat to pull off his shoes and the moth-eaten ermine robe.

      In this straight he was reduced to the necessity of borrowing an occasional dime from his chief counselor, with which to buy a ham sandwich. And the chief counselor hadn’t many dimes. One who counseled his king so foolishly was likely to ruin his own prospects as well.

      So the king, having nothing more to live for, died suddenly and left a ten-year-old son to inherit the dismantled kingdom, the moth-eaten robe and the jewel-stripped crown.

      No one envied the child, who had scarcely been thought of until he became king himself. Then he was recognized as a personage of some importance, and the politicians and hangers-on, headed by the chief counselor of the kingdom, held a meeting to determine what could be done for him.

      These folk had helped the old king to live riotously while his money lasted, and now they were poor and too proud to work. So they tried to think of a plan that would bring more money into the little king’s treasury, where it would be handy for them to help themselves[24].

      After the meeting was over the chief counselor came to the young king, who was playing peg-top in the courtyard, and said:

      “Your majesty, we have thought of a way to restore your kingdom to its former power and magnificence.”

      “All right,” replied his majesty, carelessly. “How will you do it?”

      “By marrying you to a lady of great wealth,” replied the counselor.

      “Marrying me!” cried the king. “Why, I am only ten years old!”

      “I know; it is to be regretted. But your majesty will grow older, and the affairs of the kingdom demand that you marry a wife.”

      “Can’t I marry a mother, instead?” asked the poor little king, who had lost his mother when a baby.

      “Certainly not,” declared the counselor. “To marry a mother would be illegal; to marry a wife is right and proper.”

      “Can’t you marry her yourself?” inquired his majesty, aiming his peg-top at the chief counselor’s toe, and laughing to see how he jumped to escape it.

      “Let me explain,” said the other. “You haven’t a penny in the world, but you have a kingdom. There are many rich women who would be glad to give their wealth in exchange for a queen’s coronet – even if the king is but a child[25]. So we have decided to advertise that the one who bids the highest shall become the queen of Quok.”

      “If I must marry at all,” said the king, after a moment’s thought, “I prefer to marry Nyana, the armorer’s daughter.”

      “She is too poor,” replied the counselor.

      “Her teeth are pearls, her eyes are amethysts, and her hair is gold,” declared the little king.

      “True, your majesty. But consider that your wife’s wealth must be used. How would Nyana look after you have pulled her teeth of pearls, plucked out her amethyst eyes and shaved her golden head?”

      The boy shuddered.

      “Have your own way[26],” he said, despairingly. “Only let the lady be as dainty as possible and a good playfellow.”

      “We shall do our best,” returned the chief counselor, and went away to advertise throughout the neighboring kingdoms for a wife for the boy king of Quok.

      There were so many applicants for the privilege of marrying the little king that it was decided to put him up at auction, in order that the largest possible sum of money should be brought into the kingdom. So, on the day appointed, the ladies gathered at the palace from all the surrounding kingdoms – from Bilkon, Mulgravia, Junkum and even as far away as the republic of Macvelt.

      The chief counselor came to the palace early in the morning and had the king’s face washed and his hair combed; and then he padded the inside

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