of course, the county council and the police did everything that could be done: it was no use offering the hand of the princess to anyone who killed a dragon. this way was all very well in olden times when there was only one dragon and one princess; but now there were far more dragons than princesses although the royal family was a large one. and besides, it would have been a mere waste of princesses to offer rewards for killing dragons, because everybody killed as many dragons as they could quite out of their own heads and without rewards at all, just to get the nasty things out of the way. the county council undertook to cremate all dragons delivered at their offices between the hours of ten and two, and whole wagonloads and cartloads and truckloads of dead dragons could be seen any day of the week standing in a long line in the street where the county council had their offices. boys brought barrowloads of dead dragons, and children on their way home from morning school would call in to leave the handful or two of little dragons they had brought in their satchels, or carried in their knotted pocket handkerchiefs. and yet there seemed to be as many dragons as ever. then the police stuck up great wood and canvas towers covered with patent glue. when the dragons flew against these towers, they stuck fast, as flies and wasps do on the sticky papers in the kitchen; and when the towers were covered all over with dragons, the police inspector used to set fire to the towers, and burnt them and dragons and all.