With a glad cry Martin pulled them out, but the next moment a very important-looking Little Man, with a great white beard, sprang forward and snatched them out of his hand.

“No, no,” he shouted.  “These are not fit for Martin to wear!  They will soil!” Saying which, he flung them down on that dusty floor with its litter of cinders and dirt, and began to trample on them as if in a great passion.  Then he snatched them up again and shook them, and all could see that they were unsoiled and just as bright and beautiful as before.  Then Martin tried to take them from him, but the other would not let him.

“Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes,” shouted the old man.  “They will not even keep out the wet,” and with that he thrust them into a great tub of water, and jumping in began treading them down with his feet.  But when he pulled them out again and shook them before their faces, all saw that they were as dry and bright as before.

“Give them to me!” cried Martin, thinking that it was all right now.

“Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes—­they will not resist fire,” cried the old man, and into the flames he flung them.

Martin now gave up all hopes of possessing them, and was ready to burst into tears at their loss, when out of the fire they were pulled again, and it was seen that the flames had not injured or tarnished them in the least.  Once more Martin put out his arms and this time he was allowed to take those beautiful clothes, and then just as he clasped them to him with a cry of delight he woke!

His head was lying on his new mother’s arm, and she was awake watching him.

“O, mother, what a nice dream I had!  O such pretty clothes—­why did I wake so soon?”

She laughed and touched his arms, showing him that they were still clasping that beautiful suit of clothes to his breast—­the very clothes of his wonderful dream!

CHAPTER XIII

THE GREAT BLUE WATER

There was not in all that land, nor perhaps in all the wide world, a happier little boy than Martin, when after waking from his sleep and dream he dressed himself for the first time in that new suit, and went out from the cave into the morning sunlight.  He then felt the comfort of such clothes, for they were softer than the finest, softest down or silk to his skin, and kept him warm when it was cold, and cool when it was hot, and dry when it rained on him, and the earth could not soil them, nor the thorns tear them; and above everything they were the most beautiful clothes ever seen.  Their colour was a deep moss green, or so it looked at a little distance, or when seen in the shade, but in the sunshine it sparkled as if small, shining, many-coloured beads had been sewn in the cloth; only there were no beads; it was only the shining threads that made it sparkle so, like clean sand in the sun.  When you looked closely at the cloth, you could see the lovely pattern woven in it—­small leaf and flower, the leaves like moss leaves, and the flowers like the pimpernel, but not half so big, and they were yellow and red and blue and violet in colour.