OLD Ali Baba’s pipe had nearly gone out, and he fell a
puffing at it until the spark grew to life again, and unit!
great clouds of smoke rolled out around his head and up
through the rafters above.

“T liked thy story, friend,” said old Bidpai— TI liked it
mightily much, I liked more especially the way in which
thy emperor got rid of his demon, or Gente.”

Fortunatus took a long pull at his mug of ale. “I know
not,” said he, about the demon, but there was one part that
I liked much, and that was about the treasures of silver and
gold and the palace that the Genie built, and all the fine
things that the poor fagot-maker enjoyed.” Then he who
had once carried the magic purse in his pocket fell a clatter-
ing with the bottom of his quart cup upon the table. “ Hey!
my pretty lass,” cried he,“ come hither and fetch me another
stoup of ale.”

Little Brown Betty came at his call, stumbling and tum-
bling into the room, just as she had stumbled and tumbled in
the Mother Goose book, only this time she did not crack her
crown, but gathered herself up laughing.

“ You may fill my canican while you are about it,” said
St. George, “for, by my faith, ‘tus dry work telling a
story.”

“ And mine too,” piped the little Tailor who killed seven
Juies at a blow.

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