Chapter Eleven
"I don't think he meant any harm," put in Pompadore, whose kind heart was touched by the little Candleman's terror. "And it wouldn’t help us any."
"Thought it was my wick," shrilled Kabumpo, glaring over his shoulder at his poor scorched tail. "He's a wick-ed little wretch. He's ruined your looks."
"I know!" Pompa sighed dismally. "No one will want to marry me now. It’s all coming true, Kabumpo, just as Count It Up said. Remember? 'If a thin Prince sets out on a fat elephant to find a Proper Princess, how many yards of fringe will the elephant lose from his robe and how bald will the Prince be at the end of the journey?' And we've scarcely begun!"
"Great hay stacks!" whistled Kabumpo, his little eyes twinkling. "So I have lost every bit of fringe from my robe and my tail and half the back of my robe besides. This is nice, I must say."
"We only tried to give you a warm welcome," said the King timidly.
"Warm welcome! Well I should think you did," sniffed Kabumpo. "How do we get out of here?"
"Oh, that's very simple," said the King, cheering up. "Tommy, go for the Snuffer."
Before Kabumpo or Pompa realized what this would mean a little Candleman named Tommy Tallow had
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