There was once a tired and rather poverty-stricken Princess who dwelt
in a cottage on the great highway between two cities. She was not as
unhappy as thousands of others; indeed, she had much to be grateful
for, but the life she lived and the work she did were full hard for one
who was fashioned slenderly.
Now the cottage stood by the edge of a great green forest where the
wind was always singing in the branches and the sunshine filtering
through the leaves.
And one day when the Princess was sitting by the wayside quite spent by
her labor in the fields, she saw a golden chariot rolling down the
King's Highway, and in it a person who could be none other than
somebody's Fairy Godmother on her way to the Court. The chariot halted
at her door, and though the Princess had read of such beneficent
personages, she never dreamed for an instant that one of them could
ever alight at her cottage.
"If you are tired, poor little Princess, why do you not go into the
cool green forest and rest?" asked the Fairy Godmother.
"Because I have no time," she answered. "I must go back to my plough."
"Is that your plough leaning by the tree, and is it not too heavy?"
"It is heavy," answered the Princess, "but I love to turn the hard
earth into soft furrows and know that I am making good soil wherein my
seeds may grow. When I feel the weight too much, I try to think of the
harvest."
The golden chariot passed on, and the two talked no more together that
day; nevertheless the King's messengers were busy, for they whispered
one word into the ear of the Fairy Godmother and another into the ear
of the Princess, though so faintly that neither of them realized that
the King had spoken.
The next morning a strong man knocked at the cottage door, and doffing
his hat to the Princess said: "A golden chariot passed me yesterday,
and one within it flung me a purse of ducats, saying: 'Go out into the
King's Highway and search until you find a cottage and a heavy plough
leaning against a tree near by. Enter and say to the Princess whom you
will find there: "I will guide the plough and you must go and rest, or
walk in the cool green forest; for this is the command of your Fairy
Godmother."'"
And the same thing happened every day, and every day the tired Princess
walked in the green wood. Many times she caught the glitter of the
chariot and ran into the Highway to give thanks to the Fairy Godmother;
but she was never fleet enough to reach the spot. She could only stand
with eager eyes and longing heart as the chariot passed by. Yet she
never failed to catch a smile, and sometimes a word or two floated back
to her, words that sounded like: "I would not be thanked. We are all
children of the same King, and I am only his messenger."
Now as the Princess walked daily in the green forest, hearing the wind
singing in the branches and seeing the sunlight filter through the
lattice-work of green leaves, there came unto her thoughts that had
lain asleep in the stifling air of the cottage and the weariness of
guiding the plough. And by and by she took a needle from her girdle and
pricked the thoughts on the leaves of the trees and sent them into the
air to float hither and thither. And it came to pass that people began
to pick them up, and holding them against the sun, to read what was
written on them, and this was because the simple little words on the
leaves were only, after all, a part of one of the King's messages, such
as the Fairy Godmother dropped continually from her golden chariot.
But the miracle of the story lies deeper than all this.
Whenever the Princess pricked the words upon the leaves she added a
thought of her Fairy Godmother, and folding it close within, sent the
leaf out on the breeze to float hither and thither and fall where it
would. And many other little Princesses felt the same impulse and did
the same thing. And as nothing is ever lost in the King's Dominion, so
these thoughts and wishes and hopes, being full of love and gratitude,
had no power to die, but took unto themselves other shapes and lived on
forever. They cannot be seen, our vision is too weak; nor heard, our
hearing is too dull; but they can sometimes be felt, and we know not
what force is stirring our hearts to nobler aims.
The end of the story is not come, but it may be that some day when the
Fairy Godmother has a message to deliver in person straight to the
King, he will say: "Your face I know; your voice, your thoughts, and
your heart. I have heard the rumble of your chariot wheels on the great
Highway, and I knew that you were on the King's business. Here in my
hand is a sheaf of messages from every quarter of my kingdom. They were
delivered by weary and footsore travelers, who said that they could
never have reached the gate in safety had it not been for your help and
inspiration. Read them, that you may know when and where and how you
sped the King's service."
And when the Fairy Godmother reads them, it may be that sweet odors
will rise from the pages, and half-forgotten memories will stir the
air; but in the gladness of the moment nothing will be half so lovely
as the voice of the King when he said: "Read, and know how you sped the
King's service."