All the people whispered amongst themselves. The king smiled, pleased with the impression he had made.

But the wise cobbler said gloomily, “It’s all very well to talk about it—but how are you going to do it?”

And now all the people smiled and winked as if to say, “Well, King, he’s got you there!”

The king frowned.

“It’s not that His Majesty hasn’t tried,” the queen spoke up loyally.

“Yes,” said the king. “I’ve told my knights again and again that they ought to slay that dragon. But I can’t force them to go. I’m not a tyrant.”

“Why doesn’t the wizard say a magic spell?” asked the cobbler.

“He’s done the best he can,” said the king.

The wizard blushed and everyone looked embarrassed. “I used to do all sorts of spells and chants when I was younger,” the wizard explained. “But I’ve lost my spell book. I begin to fear I’m losing my memory too. For instance, I’ve been trying for days to recall one spell I used to do. I forget, just now, what the deuce it was for. It went something like—