THE prince walked from room to room of the palace; but, unless he
wrapped himself up in a curtain, there was nothing for him to wear when
he went out in the rain. At last he climbed up a turret-stair in the
very oldest part of the castle, where he had never been before; and
at the very top was a little round room, a kind of garret. The prince
pushed in the door with some difficulty--not that it was locked, but the
handle was rusty, and the wood had swollen with the damp. The room was
very dark; only the last grey light of the rainy evening came through
a slit of a window, one of those narrow windows that they used to fire
arrows out of in old times.
But in the dusk the prince saw a heap of all sorts of things lying on
the floor and on the table. There were two caps; he put one on--an old,
grey, ugly cap it was, made of felt. There was a pair of boots; and
he kicked off his slippers, and got into _them_. They were a good deal
worn, but fitted as if they had been made for him. On the table was a
purse with just three gold coins--old ones, too--in it; and this, as
you may fancy, the prince was very well pleased to put in his pocket.
A sword, with a sword-belt, he buckled about his waist; and the rest of
the articles, a regular collection of odds and ends, he left just where
they were lying. Then he ran downstairs, and walked out of the hall
door.
[Illustration: Chapter Six]