The Driver of the Dream Coach paused as he turned over the pages of the
great white and gold book in which are kept the names of all those who
have ridden or are to be given rides in the brightly painted Coach.
“I see,” he said, addressing the little angels who helped him keep these
records, “I see the name of the Little Chinese Emperor. And there is a
cross opposite his name. Has he been naughty?” he asked. “Has he been
picking the sacred lotus flowers of his honorable ancestors? Has he——”
“Oh, please,” interrupted one of the smallest angels, “I put that cross
there to remind me to tell you something about the Little Emperor. You
see he hasn’t been naughty—not exactly—but he’s made a mistake. He
doesn’t understand,” said the smallest angel, with his eyes round and
serious.
“And can I help the Little Emperor understand?” asked the Driver of the
Dream Coach.
“Of course you can!” cried the smallest angel, beaming brightly. “It’s
this way. The Little Chinese Emperor has a friend of mine fastened up in
a cage, where he is very sad——”
“An angel in a cage?” asked the Driver. “I never heard of such a thing!”
“Well, not exactly an angel, a——”