John looked at her and thought how like a gentle little animal she was, so timid, and with such large, beseeching eyes.  John had never known any little girls.  Now he thought they would be very pleasant things to have in an animal kingdom.

“Please let her stay, King,” he said gently.  “She can do no harm.”

“Very well.  Let her stay,” said the King impatiently.  “But what will you do?  What magic have you, boy?”

Suddenly John had an impulse.  He stepped forward with the squirming kittens and laid them on the velvet coverlet close by the Prince’s marble hand.  The doctor arose with a cry of horror; the attendants rushed forward.  The little Princess drew a long breath.  But the King raised his hand.

“Let the boy alone,” he commanded.  “Even this madness shall be humored.  There is no hope now but in him.”

The kittens began to frisk and gambol about the velvet, and the old cat, with a contented purr, jumped up beside them.  She was tired, poor thing, and glad to find a soft bed.  At that moment those who were watching saw a change come upon the Prince’s face.  His eyelids quivered.  His lips moved slightly.  The King raised his hands and trembled.

Then began a frolic upon that royal bed such as for ten years had not been seen in all the kingdom.  Up and down, around and around, the kittens chased one another.  They rolled over and over, kicking and biting.  They played with their mother’s tail.  They scampered over the still body of the Prince himself, and one of them, coming to his hand, began to play with the white fingers, nibbling at them and licking them with warm little pink tongue.

And what happened?  Slowly the Prince’s eyes opened.  For a moment they gazed blankly at the frolicking kittens.  Then his lips gradually parted, and the flicker of a tiny smile came upon them.  The King clasped his hands over his eyes, and gave a cry of joy.  The little Princess laid her head on the pillow beside her brother’s and wept silently.

The kitten which was playing with the Prince’s hand rolled over on its back and began to kick at the royal fingers.  A tiny red scratch appeared on the milky skin.  At the same moment a bit of color came into the Prince’s white lips and cheeks.  He turned his head, and lifting his hand stroked the soft ball of fur.  The little thing responded immediately, arching its back and beginning to purr.  Presently the Prince’s other hand stole out from under the coverlet.  He drew the kitten feebly to his face and rubbed his cheek against the silky fur, and he smiled!

[Illustration:  He stroked the soft ball of fur.]

The doctor turned to the King.  “He will live,” he said.  “It must be magic!”

“He lives!  My son lives!” cried the King, bending over the Prince in a transport.

The Prince opened his eyes and looked at him, and a change came upon his face.  The smile faded, and he closed his eyes wearily.