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“I will,” said Beppo, “use it as my own.”

The prime-minister wrung his hand again, and then Beppo rode away.

The next time that Beppo spoke to the king, at the princess’s bidding, he looked at the lord-treasurer, and said, as he had said to the prime-minister, “Alas, my poor friend!”

When he rode away he left the lord-treasurer as white as ashes to the very lips.

Three days passed, and then, while the king talked to Beppo, Beppo looked at the lord-treasurer and smiled.

The lord-treasurer followed him to the door of the palace.

“It is well, and I wish you joy,” said Beppo.

The treasurer offered him a fortune.

The next time it was the same with the captain of the guards. First Beppo pitied him, and then he wished him joy.

“My lord,” said the captain of the guards, “my services are yours at any time.”

Then the same thing happened to the governor of the city, then to this lord, and then to that lord.

Beppo grew rich and powerful beyond measure.

Then one day the princess said: “Now we will go into the town, and to the palace of the prime-minister’s son, which the prime-minister gave you, for the time is ripe for the end.”

In a few days all the court knew that Beppo was living like a prince in the prime-minister’s palace. The king began to wonder what it all meant, and how all such good-fortune had come to Beppo. He had grown very tired of always speaking to Beppo the same words.

But Beppo was now great among the great; all the world paid court to him, and bowed down to him, almost as they did before the king.

“Now,” said the princess, “the time has come to strike. Bid all the councillors, and all the lords, and all the nobles to meet here three days hence, for it is now or never that you shall win all and become king.”

Beppo did as she bade. He asked all of the great people of the kingdom to come to him, and they came. When they were all gathered together at Beppo’s house, they found two thrones set as though for a king and a queen, but there was no sign of Beppo, and everybody wondered what it all meant.

Suddenly the door opened and Beppo came into the room, leading by the hand a lady covered with a veil from head to foot.

Everybody stopped speaking and stood staring while Beppo led the veiled lady up to one of the thrones. He seated himself upon the other.

The lady stood up and dropped her veil, and then every one knew her.

It was the princess. “Do you not know me?” said she; “I am the queen, and this is my husband. He is your king.”

All stood silent for a moment, and then a great shout went up. “Long live the queen! Long live the king!”

The princess turned to the captain of the guards. “You have offered your services to my husband,” said she; “his commands and my commands are that you march to the palace and cast out him who hath no right there.”

“It shall be done,” said the captain of the guards.

All the troops were up in arms, and the town was full of tumult and confusion. About midnight they brought the false king before King Beppo and the queen. The false king stood there trembling like a leaf. The queen stood gazing at him steadily. “Behold, this is the husband that thou gavest me,” said she. “It is as I said; he is greater than thou. For, lo, he is king! What art thou?”

The false king was banished out of the country, and the poor fisherman’s wife, who had entertained the princess for all this time, came to live at the palace, where all was joy and happiness.

“Friend,” said St. George, “I like your story. Ne’th’less, tis like a strolling peddler, in that it carries a great deal of ills to begin with, to get rid of them all before it gets to the end of its journey. However, tis as you say–it ends with everybody merry and feasting, and so I like it. But now methinks our little friend yonder is big with a story of his own;” and he pointed, as he spoke, with the stem of his pipe to a little man whom I knew was the brave Tailor who had killed seven flies at a blow, for he still had around his waist the belt with the legend that he himself had worked upon it.

“Aye,” piped the Tailor in a keen, high voice, “tis true I have a story inside of me. Tis about another tailor who had a great, big, black, ugly demon to wait upon him and to sew his clothes for him.”

“And the name of that story, my friend,” said the Soldier who had cheated the Devil, “is what?”

“It hath no name,” piped the little Tailor, “but I will give it one, and it shall be–“