“Oh, there you are,” said Riggy. “I was afraid you had decided not to wait.”
“No, I’m still here,” said Peter, jumping to his feet. “But I still haven’t thought of a way to rescue the princess. Have you?”
“No,” Riggy replied, pulling an extremely long and miserable face. “But now I have troubles of my own.”
“What happened?” Peter asked.
“Mig got terribly angry with me because I didn’t notice that I had put his nightcap on inside out. Then I became so nervous that I put ice into his hot-water bottle instead of hot water.”
“What did he do?”
“He twisted my nose and boxed my ears. Then he—he sent me away.”
“You mean he doesn’t want you to work for him anymore?”
“Yes. I’ve been fired.”
Riggy lowered his yellow head sadly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Peter said.
“You don’t need to be,” Riggy answered. “I’ve been miserable working for Mig anyway. So I don’t really care about losing the job. The only thing I care about is helping you rescue the princess.”
Suddenly an idea flashed into Peter’s mind.
“Riggy!” he cried.
“What?”
“I’m going to take your place.”
Riggy stared at him in complete astonishment.
“What?”
“Mig needs a helper, doesn’t he?”
“He certainly does. He can’t manage without one. When he wakes up and realizes he sent me away, he’s going to be furious with himself.”
“Then it’s settled. You can have my armor.”
“What?” Riggy cried, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
“You can have my armor,” Peter repeated.
“Oh, can I?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t want Mig to recognize me as the same boy who paid a gold ducat to see the princess.”
Peter took off his helmet.
Riggy grinned and wrinkled his nose.
“I understand. You’re going to disguise yourself and fool him, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to try.”
Peter handed over his armor.
Riggy immediately reached for Peter’s sword.
“But you can’t have my sword,” Peter said.
Riggy quickly pulled his hand back.
With Riggy’s help, Peter soon had all his armor off. He stood beneath the tree in his plain white nightgown.
“Now give me your clothes,” Peter said.
Riggy gladly took off his patched and yellow doublet and hose and handed them over.
The clothes were much too small for Peter, and the armor was much too large for Riggy. It took quite a while for them to get everything on properly.
At last they were dressed.
Riggy stood proudly in Peter’s armor and strutted around as if he were the greatest knight in the kingdom.
“I’m going off right now to perform a noble deed!” he shouted. “All my life I’ve wanted to do a noble deed!”
“Well, there are plenty of noble deeds to be done around here,” Peter said. “But you’d better find yourself a sword first.”
“I’m going to do that immediately!” Riggy said happily. “I know a sword-maker who can make me a beautiful one.”
Peter took one of the golden ducats he had earned by dancing in the square.
“Here. Maybe the sword-maker will want to be paid.”
“Oh, thank you, Sir Knight,” Riggy said, blinking away tears.
Then he hesitated.
“Don’t you want me to stay and help you? Mig is a terrible little man.”
“No. You go and do your noble deed. I think I can manage quite well by myself.”
“Well, then, be careful.”
Riggy shook Peter’s hand and wished him every kind of good luck. He thanked Peter again and again, then hurried away to find the sword-maker.
Peter turned and walked up the little street toward the tent of Mig the magician.
A sign hung outside the tent.
KEEP OUT—MIG IS ASLEEP
Peter ignored it and walked straight inside.
There lay the wicked little magician, fast asleep beneath a yellow blanket.
Mig wore a blue nightcap with a red tassel, and his head rested on a hot-water bottle. His whiskers had been braided into two little plaits that stuck out from beneath the blanket.
His tiny eyes were tightly shut, and his mouth hung open as he snored.
He was sleeping on top of two large wooden boxes with shiny gold locks.
Peter stared at them.
The two boxes looked almost exactly alike.
He had no idea which one held the princess and which one held poor Dallahan.
Peter stood quietly, waiting for Mig to wake up.
Then he heard a soft groan coming from one of the boxes.
A moment later, a sweet, high voice began singing a sad little song.
“Oh, the princess is lost in the deep, deep wood,
Oh, sigh and sigh again;
For she wandered where she never should,
Oh, sigh and sigh once more.
Oh, the princess will die when the snow comes down,
Oh, sigh and sigh again;
For she’ll be cold in her summer gown,
Oh, sigh and sigh once more.”
As the song ended, the little magician suddenly woke.
“Riggy!” he shouted.
“Riggy! Come here at once, or I’ll box your ears and twist your nose!”
Then Mig remembered what he had done.
“Oh, Dingle Berry Pie! What a fool I am! I sent that stupid boy away!”
He looked around angrily.
“Now what am I going to do?”
Peter stepped forward, keeping his sword hidden behind his back.
“I’m at your service, sir.”
Mig stared at him.
His whiskers stood straight out from his face in surprise.
“Who—who are you?”
“I—I was standing nearby when you told Riggy to leave, sir. So I thought—”
“You thought you’d like to take his place?”
Mig had guessed exactly what Peter was about to say.
“What’s your name?”
“R-Robin,” Peter stammered.
He surprised himself with the name.
Perhaps he had been thinking about the little robin that had greeted him when he lay beneath the white berry tree. It was the same bird that had recently appeared in its new brown-and-red coat.
“Robin what?”
“Just plain Robin.”
“Humph!”
Mig began pacing up and down in his nightgown.
“Haven’t you got a family?”
“N-not here, sir.”
“Where are they?”
“Oh, way, way ahead, sir.”
“How far ahead?”
“As far ahead as you can go from here.”
“Well, that’s all right. They won’t be able to bother us, then.”
Mig stopped and looked closely at Peter.
“Can you tell the difference between one camel and another camel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How?”
“Well, some camels have one hump and some have two, if that’s what you mean.”
Mig stopped pacing.
He looked Peter up and down.
“That isn’t what I meant,” he said. “But I understand your point.”
Mig rubbed his chin.
“I’ll hire you.”
Peter tried not to look relieved.
“Now fetch my clothes. I’ll need your help getting dressed because it’s time for us to leave.”
Peter brought Mig his doublet and hose, his moldy green cloak, and his pointed red shoes.
Once Mig was dressed, he announced, “We’re going to Giggletown.”
“Giggletown?”
“Yes. Lots of little children live there, and they’ll gladly pay good gold to see a princess with silver toes.”
Mig rubbed his hands together.
The rough sound was like sandpaper scraping against itself.
“Ahhh,” he sighed happily.
“How far away is Giggletown?” Peter asked.
“Oh, just over the hills and far away,” Mig answered vaguely.
“Don’t ask foolish questions.”
Then he pointed toward the tent.
“Now get busy. The moon will be up before we can count to ten.”
Peter worked harder than he had ever worked in his life.
He took down the scarlet tent and rolled it up, poles and all.
When he finished, a blue cart suddenly appeared from nowhere.
It had bright red wheels and was pulled by a milk-white donkey.
The donkey had a pair of extremely long pink ears and the most disgusted expression Peter had ever seen on an animal.
“Load her up!” Mig ordered.
Peter tried to lift the two heavy boxes, but he could not manage them alone.
Mig had to help him.
Then they loaded several round sacks that were so heavy they nearly dragged Peter to the ground.
Gold coins clinked inside them.
At last everything was loaded onto the cart.
Mig climbed onto the front seat, grabbed the reins, and clicked his tongue.
“Come on! Get moving!”
The white donkey looked even more disgusted.
“Jump onto the back!” Mig shouted at Peter. “Or I’ll twist your nose and box your ears!”
Peter scrambled up among the boxes and the heavy sacks of gold.
The donkey finally started walking.
Above them, the moon rose into the night sky.
It was round and golden, looking almost exactly like a huge gold ducat.
Bats fluttered through the air as the cart rolled away into the darkness.