OLD Bidpat nodded his head. “ Aye, aye,” said he,
“ there is a very good moral in that story, my friend. It ts,
as a certain philosopher said, very true, that there is more in
an egg than the meat. And truly, methinks, there is more
in thy story than the story of itself.” He nodded his head
again and stroked his beard slowly, puffing out as he did so
a great reflective cloud of smoke, through which his eyes
shone and twinkled mistily like stars through a cloud.

“ And whose turn 1s it now ?” said Doctor Faustus.

‘Methinks ’tis mine,” satd Boots—he who in fatry-tale
always sat in the ashes at home and yet married a princess
after he had gone out into the world awhile. \ My story,”
said he, “ hath no moral, but, all the same, it is as true as
that eggs hatch chickens.” Then, without watting for any
one to say another word, he began it in these words. “TI am
going to tell you,” said he, “ how—