Chapter Twelve
to the shore. A slight mist hung in the air and all around was the delicious fragrance of vegetable soup.
"Somebody's making soup," sighed the Prince, "but who, and where?"
"Never mind, Pompa," wheezed the Elegant Elephant, walking down to the water's edge, "perhaps you can catch some fish, and while you cook them I'll go back and eat some leaves."
With a jerk of his trunk, Kabumpo pulled a length of the heavy silver thread from his torn robe and handed it up to Pompa. Fastening a jeweled pin to one end, the Prince cast his line far out into the waves. At the first tug he drew it in.
"What is it?" asked the Elegant Elephant, as Pompa pulled the dripping line over his trunk.
"Oh, how delicious! How wonderful!" exclaimed the once fastidious Prince of Pumperdink.
Kabumpo could hear him munching away with relish.
"What is it?" he asked again.
"A carrot! A lovely, red, delightful, tender carrot!"
"Carrot! Who ever heard of a sea carrot?" grunted Kabumpo. "I'm afraid you're not yourself, my boy. Let me see it."
Snaps and crunches, as Pompa consumed his strange
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