But he was only three steps nearer it than he had been, and the seven-league boots were standing beside him on the floor! "No," said the prince; "no man can be in two different pairs of boots at one and the same time! That's mathematics!" He then hunted about in the lumber-room again till he found a small, shabby, old Persian carpet, the size of a hearthrug.

He went to his own room, took a portmanteau in his hand, sat down on the carpet, and said: "I wish I were in Gluckstein." In a moment there he found himself; for this was that famous carpet which Prince Hussein bought long ago, in the market at Bisnagar, and which the fairies had brought, with the other presents, to the christening of Prince Prigio.
{The Prince on the carpet: p52.jpg} When he arrived at the house where the ball was going on, he put the magical carpet in the portmanteau, and left it in the cloak-room, receiving a numbered ticket in exchange.

Then he marched in all his glory (and, of course, without the cap of darkness) into the room where they were dancing.

Everybody made place for him, bowing down to the ground, and the loyal band struck up _The Prince's March_! _Heaven bless our Prince Prigio_! _What is there he doesn't know_?
_Greek_, _Swiss_, _German_ (_High and Low_), _And the names of the mountains in Mexico_, _Heaven bless the prince_! He used to be very fond of this march, and the words--some people even said he had made them himself.

But now, somehow, he didn't much like it.
He went straight to the Duke of Stumpfelbahn, the Hereditary Master of the Ceremonies, and asked to be introduced to the beautiful young lady.
She was the daughter of the new English Ambassador, and her name was Lady Rosalind.