strong as Stephen. There was no way to get the ring from off his finger
unless he took it by force or could get some witch to weave a spell
over him.
And all this time the beautiful Princess was in love with Nardo. Had he
only known it, he needed no magic ring to win her love for him.
One night after trying in vain to get the ring Stephen went to an old
witch who lived in a cave by the sea and asked her to get the ring for
him, promising to make her rich if she would get it.
The witch was greedy for gold, so one night while Nardo slept she
crept into the palace, aided by the wicked Stephen, and cast a spell
over Nardo, which made him forget the ring and also his love for the
beautiful Princess.
Stephen, with the ring on his finger, felt that all was easy now, and
he promptly forgot all about the old witch and the gold he promised her.
The beautiful Princess looked with sad eyes upon the now cold and
indifferent Nardo, and, while she did not love Stephen, she felt each
day that she was being drawn to him, though she knew well enough she
did not love any one but Nardo.
The old witch, however, helped the Princess out of part of her
troubles, for when she found that Stephen did not intend to give her
the gold, she waited for him one day in the palace grounds, hidden
behind a clump of bushes, and when he came out for a walk she pointed
her lean fingers at him and placed him under a spell which made him
follow her to her cave by the sea.
Here she chained him to a rock and put a dragon to watch that he did
not escape; but while the Princess escaped marrying Stephen, he still
possessed the ring which kept Nardo from remembering he had ever loved
the Princess.
One night when the Princess was sitting in her window looking at the
moon and sighing over her lost lover and his love she saw a nightingale
caught by its wing in a tree.
The tree was so close that the Princess had only to reach out and
rescue the poor bird and set it free.
The nightingale, in gratitude for its life, began to sing so sweetly
that the Princess exclaimed, “Oh, sing each night by my window,
beautiful bird, that I may for a little while at least forget my
sorrow.”
The hour of midnight was just then striking, and as the last stroke of
twelve died away the nightingale changed into a fairy.
“I am powerless to use my magic until the hour of midnight strikes,”
said the little fairy. “I have chosen to become a nightingale until
then, and the Queen will not give me the power of a fairy until I
change my form to one.
“If it had not been for your kindness I might never have become a
fairy again, for the nightingale’s wing would have been broken, and no
imperfect creature can reclaim its form, once it has changed from a
fairy.
“If I can help you, tell me and I will go to the Queen and ask to
remain a fairy, and then no matter how hard the task you set I am sure
I can make you happy.”
Of course, the Princess did not know about the magic ring, and she
could only tell the fairy how once she had felt sure that Nardo loved
her and then suddenly he had changed and would not notice her at all.
The fairy listened to the Princess and told her not to worry; that she
was sure there was something wrong; that Nardo still loved her, and at
midnight the next night she would return, and away she flittered in the
moonlight, leaving the Princess happier than she had been for many a
day.
It took the fairy but a short time to unravel the mystery, and the next
night when the Princess went to her window she found the little fairy
waiting for her, perched on the sill.
“Do not grieve, my Princess,” said the fairy. “Nardo still loves you;
it is all the work of his wicked brother Stephen, who loved you, too.”
Then she told the Princess the story of the ring and how Stephen had
got the old witch to get it for him, and that if he had given her the
gold he would have married the Princess in spite of all she could have
done.
“But if Nardo still loves me, why does he keep away? Why does he not
tell me of his love?” asked the Princess.
“He will, my dear Princess, when he remembers,” said the fairy, “and
there is where the difficult part comes in.
“We must get the ring or the stone. It is only the stone that holds the
charm, but that is still on Stephen’s finger, and to get near to him
the dragon must be overpowered.”
“Oh! I will send all my father’s soldiers,” said the Princess; “they
can kill the dragon, I am sure.”
“Not a dragon that belongs to a witch,” said the fairy, “and if my plan
works, and I think it will, we shall not need soldiers. I will be back
before the sun rises. Wait for me.”
Away went the fairy to her Queen and again asked to be changed into a
nightingale. “It is to help some one in trouble, dear Queen,” she said,
“and never again will I ask to change my form.”
The Queen granted her wish and away flew the nightingale toward the
sea, where lived the witch and the dragon.
When she was near the cave she began her sweetest song, and as she flew
nearer she sang more sweetly and softly until she alighted on a tree
right over the rock where lay the dragon and the sleeping Stephen.
The eyes of the dragon were wide open, watching on all sides for any
one who might dare attempt to rescue Stephen.
When he heard the sweet tones of the nightingale the dragon raised its
head and looked around, but, seeing only a bird perched over his head,
he had no fear. Softly, sweetly, the nightingale trilled and sang its
soothing song until at last the dragon began to nod its head, and after
a while it dropped to the ground, fast asleep.
The poor nightingale was so worn out with singing so long that it
hardly had strength to fly down to where Stephen was sleeping.
Very carefully it did so with only a soft waving of its wings, and then
its bill plucked from the ring on Stephen’s hand the red stone, and off
it flew with the stone held tightly in its bill.
Only once did it stop, and that was to sip a drop of dew from a
rose-bush where it alighted to rest, and then on it went to the palace
where Nardo was sleeping and flew through the window of his bedroom.
Nardo’s hand was open on the pillow beside his face, and into his hand
the nightingale placed the red stone and flew away to the Princess.
“Your lover will be here with the sun,” she said, “and as it is not far
from that time I must fly to my Queen.
“Farewell, my kind Princess. May you be happy with your Prince, and if
you are as good and kind as a Queen as you were when a Princess I shall
never regret my night’s work.”
The Princess thanked her again and again, but the fairy was away before
she had finished, and just then the sun peeped through the trees and
at the same time the sound of horses’ hoofs was heard coming along the
road.
The Princess’s cheeks grew red, for she knew it was her lover, and when
she reached the palace door there he was just riding up.
When the spell was broken for Nardo it released poor Stephen from the
power of the witch; the sea rolled in and the wind shrieked among the
trees and the next thing Stephen knew he was running through the forest
toward his home.
Of course, he was too much ashamed to tell of all that had happened to
him and said he had been hunting in the forest and lost his way; and
Nardo and the Princess kept his secret and did not let him know they
were aware of his treachery, and as he grew to be a better man as the
years went by, they were glad they did.
[Illustration]
OLD THREE HEADS
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Lucy. She was always
opening doors and looking into rooms that did not belong to her, and it
made her appear very rude.
One day Lucy was sent to the woods to gather berries, but instead of
filling her basket as she should have done she walked about, looking
behind rocks and trees, thinking that she might find an opening in some
of them.
“Better look out for Old Three Heads,” said a squirrel, as he ran past
her.
“I wonder what he means,” she said. “I must keep on looking, for
somewhere around here Old Three Heads must live, or the squirrel would
not have said ‘look out,’ and I want to see what he is like.”
“Better look out for Old Three Heads,” called a bird from the limb of a
tree.
“Better look out for Old Three Heads,” called a rabbit as he ran into
his hole.
“I wish some one would tell me where Old Three Heads lives,” said Lucy,
“instead of just saying look out for him.”
Just then she came to a path which led through thick bushes.
“I will see where this leads,” she said. “Perhaps it leads to Old Three
Heads’ house.”
Lucy walked along the path and soon she saw a castle standing among
the trees. Most little girls would have hesitated about going into a
strange house, but Lucy’s curiosity was so great she thought only of
seeing the inside of the castle. She walked up the steps and opened the
door. The hall was long and dark, but she was not afraid. So she closed
the door and walked along.
There were many doors on each side of the hall, and Lucy opened one
and looked in. In one corner of the room was a horse with three heads.
“What a queer place to keep a horse!” thought Lucy.
“Better look out for Old Three Heads,” said the horse, shaking all
three heads and looking sad.
“How did you get three heads?” asked Lucy.
“I looked in the window one day when Old Three Heads was eating his
dinner, and he saw me. You better look out,” he warned her again.
Lucy thought of the other doors and decided to keep on, for she was
very anxious to see what was behind all of them.
She opened another door and a three-headed cat ran toward her. “You
have only one head!” said the cat, in a tone of surprise. “You better
look out for Old Three Heads.”
“I am not afraid,” said Lucy, as she left the room and opened another
door. In this room was a three-headed dog. He looked at her and said,
“Better look out for Old Three Heads; you will find him if you keep on
opening doors.”
“I want to see him,” answered Lucy. “Where is he?”
“You better run while you can,” said the dog, “but you will find him if
you keep on, and then you will wish you had taken my advice.”
But Lucy only laughed and went to another door. In that room she saw a
three-headed cow.
“What a queer place!” she said. “I never saw animals living in a house
before. Why are the animals kept in the house?” she asked the cow.
“We belong to Old Three Heads,” replied the cow, “and every creature
that comes in this castle has three heads. You better look out for Old
Three Heads,” she warned her.
“Why did you come in, if you knew you had to wear three heads?” asked
Lucy.
“We wanted to see what was in here, just as you did,” replied the cow.
“The cat found the door open and she walked in to look about; the dog
saw her enter and he followed. Old Three Heads saw them. You better
look out,” she warned Lucy again.
But Lucy was more curious than ever, and she kept on with her questions.
“How did you and the horse get three heads?” she asked. “You did not
walk in the door, did you?”
“Not at first,” answered the cow. “The horse put his head in the window
one day when it was open and Old Three Heads saw him.”
“And you,” asked Lucy again, for the cow stopped and hung her three
heads, “what did you do?”
“I saw some green corn on the window-sill,” the cow confessed, very
slowly, “and I put my head in the window to get it and Old Three Heads
saw me.”
“What happens when he sees you?” she asked.
“Wait and see,” replied the cow. “But I have warned you; you’d better
look out for Old Three Heads and run while you can.”
As that was all the information she could get from the cow, Lucy told
her she would find out for herself how they all got their three heads,
and she went to the next door and opened it.
The room was dark, and at first Lucy could not see anything, but some
one said, “Who-who,” and as the sound came from a corner of the room
Lucy went in and looked about.
As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she saw perched on the
back of a chair an owl with three heads.
“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Lucy. “How did so wise a bird as you
happen to be caught by Old Three Heads?” she asked.
“Who-who are you?” stuttered the owl. “You-you better look out for Old
Three Heads,” he warned Lucy.
“Tell me how it happened that you have three heads,” asked Lucy,
ignoring the warning as she had before.
“Who-who are you?” stuttered the owl again.
“I am a girl,” said Lucy. “Can’t you see?”
“Bet-bet-better look out,” warned the owl again.
“Oh dear!” said Lucy. “You are worse than the others. I am going to
find Old Three Heads and find out, if I can, how all of you got three
heads.”
“Who-who,” said the owl as she went out of the room.
Lucy opened another door, and there on the throne in this room sat a
giant with three heads. She had found Old Three Heads at last.
For the first time since she entered the castle Lucy was frightened
when she saw the curious-looking creature; but there was no chance to
escape; it was too late.
The giant looked at her a second, and then he called out to his
attendants, who all had three heads but were much smaller men: “Bring
the intruder before me.”
“Bring two heads,” he said, when Lucy stood before him.
When the heads were brought one had black hair and one red.
“I do not want those heads,” said Lucy; “they do not match my hair.
Can’t I have two golden-haired heads?”
“Those are all I have,” said the giant, “and you will have to wear
them. On with them,” he said, and the attendants fastened the heads on
Lucy’s shoulders, one on each side of her own head.
“I wish I could see myself,” said Lucy, still curious.
“Take her to her room,” said the giant, and Lucy was taken to one of
the rooms that opened out of the long hall.
When she was alone she looked around the room and saw a mirror hanging
on the wall. She ran and looked into it. The new heads looked very
cross.
“What is the matter with you?” asked Lucy.
“I do not like red hair or light hair,” said the dark-haired head.
“And I do not like dark hair or light hair,” said the head with red
hair.
“I cannot help that,” said Lucy. “I did not want either of you.”
“I will not stay here,” said the dark-haired head.
“Neither will I,” said the head with the red hair.
And they began to pull away. Lucy bent first to one side and then to
the other, with the pulling of the quarrelsome heads.
“Do keep quiet,” she said at last. “I am sorry I said anything about
the color of your hair. If you will be good I’ll try to get you
something nice to eat.”
This plan quieted the heads, and Lucy went to the door. It was not
locked, and she opened it and went out.
First she went to the room where the horse was.
“Horse, can you tell me where I can get something to eat?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the horse. “Go to the fireplace and call up the chimney.”
“I want my dinner,” Lucy called.
Down came a table with food upon it and a chair standing beside it.
Lucy seated herself and began to eat.
Then the trouble began; every time she raised the fork to her mouth the
dark head or the head with red hair would stretch out their necks and
take the food from the fork before Lucy could get a chance.
The new heads quarreled because each thought the other was getting more
than its share.
Lucy put her fork and knife on the table in despair. “You are a pair of
greedy heads,” she said. “I have not had a bite.”
“It is all your fault,” said one; “you should not have got us.”
Lucy went into the room where the cat was and asked her if she would
tell her where she could get something to drink.
“Rap three times on the wall,” said the cat.
Lucy tried this and a cup appeared filled with water. Lucy tried to put
it up to her lips, but the head with the red hair reached it and drank
all the water.
Lucy rapped again, and another cup appeared, and this time the head
with dark hair reached it and drank every drop of water before Lucy
could stop it.
She tried several times, but each time the greedy heads drank it
before she could get her lips to the cup.
She went into the room where the dog was kept.
“Where can I find a comfortable chair and a book?” she asked.
“Tap on the floor three times,” the dog said.
Lucy did as he said, and a chair appeared, and beside it a table filled
with books. Lucy opened one of the books and looked at the pictures.
“I cannot see them,” said the head with the red hair. Lucy moved the
book to one side.
“I should think you would remember that you have three heads,” said the
head with the dark hair. “How do you expect me to see if you keep the
book over that side?”
Lucy moved the book to the other side, and then the head with the red
hair began to fuss again.
“Oh dear!” said Lucy. “You are the most selfish heads I ever saw. I
will go to the cow and see if she can help me,” she said.
“Where can I find a bed?” she asked the cow. “These heads have just
tired me out.”
“I will get you one,” said the cow. “Moo, moo!” she called up and from
the floor came a bed.
Lucy lay down upon it. “I do not want to go to sleep,” said the head
with dark hair. “I do,” said Lucy. “I am tired and I am going to sleep;
you can stay awake if you wish to.”
“I do not feel tired,” said the head with red hair; “I feel like
singing,” and it began to sing so loudly that Lucy had to get up.
“I’ll go to the owl and see if he can help me,” she said, as she went
out of the room.
She went into the room where the owl was and opened the window. The owl
hid its three heads.
“You are such a wise bird,” she said to the owl, “I wish you would tell
me what to do with these new heads; they quarrel all the time.”
“Who-who!” said the owl.
“I cannot understand how any one could ever think you were wise,” said
Lucy; “all you can say is who-who. I wish I could be rid of these
troublesome heads.”
“Why don’t you, then?” said the head with red hair. “We come off if you
pull hard.”
“I never thought of that,” said Lucy, pulling at the head with red
hair.
Off it came and flew through the window.
Then she tried the other and it came off and followed the other through
the window.
“Would you like to be rid of your extra heads?” Lucy asked the owl.
“Who-who,” answered the owl.
“You silly bird!” said Lucy, pulling at his extra heads. Off they came
and followed Lucy’s heads.
“Let’s go to the cow,” said Lucy, “and take off her heads.”
The owl tried to follow her, but bumped against the wall and fell to
the floor.
“Oh, I forgot that you could not see in the daytime,” said Lucy. “I’ll
put you on my shoulder,” she said, picking him up from the floor.
“Would you like to get rid of your extra heads?” Lucy asked the cow.
“Of course I would,” she said. “How did you get rid of yours?”
“I will show you,” said Lucy, pulling at the cow’s extra heads. Off
they came and out the window they flew.
“Well, I never should have thought of that,” said the cow.
“Let us go to the cat and the dog and the horse,” said Lucy, “and help
them to get rid of their troubles.”
Each of them said they had never thought to try pulling the extra heads
off, and they were very grateful to Lucy for helping them.
The heads all flew out of the window and that was the last that was
ever seen of them.
“I think we should get out of this place as soon as we can,” said Lucy.
“Old Three Heads might get us again.”
They hurried out of the house and soon were in the woods a long way
from the castle.
“Did Old Three Heads get you?” asked the animals they met in the woods.
Lucy told them he did. “But he will not bother you,” she said, “if
you keep away from his house, and I warn you that three heads are a
nuisance, and you may not be so fortunate as we have been in escaping
from them.”
“Did you have to feed them all?” asked a squirrel.
“Yes,” answered Lucy, “or at least I tried to, but they quarreled so
that I had to go without.”
“I will never go near Old Three Heads,” said the squirrel. “I have all
I can do to take care of one head.”
“I have had my lesson,” said Lucy. “I shall never look into rooms again
when the door is closed, for one head is all I care to have.”
[Illustration]
THE ENCHANTED BOAT
Once there was a King who had a very beautiful daughter, and when the
Queen died the King married a woman who had a son named Tito because he
thought this new Queen would be kind and good to the Princess.
But in this the King was greatly mistaken, for the Queen thought only
of her son and wished to make him King.
She told the King that if he would make the Princess marry Tito that he
need have no fear about the future of his kingdom, for he could be sure
her son would make a good king.
“And a woman should not be Queen and rule alone such a big kingdom as
you possess,” said the scheming Queen.
The King, who thought more of his daughter’s happiness than anything in
the world, called the Princess and told her of his plan. “Marry your
stepmother’s son and all will be well with you and I can die happy,” he
told the Princess.
But the Princess did not want to marry Tito, for she did not love him,
and when she found that her father would not listen to her pleadings,
but told her that very night she should wed Tito, the little Princess
ran out of the palace and threw herself face down on the grass and wept.
When it came time for the wedding she was nowhere to be found, and
though the palace and the gardens were searched, it was all in vain.
The Princess had disappeared.
What had happened was that while the Princess was crying and bemoaning
her sad lot she heard a sound, and when she looked up there was a lake
she had never seen at the foot of the garden, and on it a beautiful
boat with a sail of silk the color of gold.
There was no one in the boat, and the Princess, forgetting her sorrow
in her wonderment at this strange sight, ran down to the water’s edge,
where another surprise awaited her. For the boat came sailing straight
to the place where she stood.
The Princess stepped in, and away went the boat out over the blue
water, and in a few minutes she was in a country she had never seen
before.
The little Princess was not frightened, for she felt sure nothing worse
could befall her than if she stayed at the palace and had to marry
Tito, and, while she was sorry to leave her father, she could not be
happy with a man she did not love.
The lake led to a river, along the banks of which were high hills and
beautiful woods, and the Princess was so lost in admiring the beauty of
the scene she did not notice they were approaching a castle until her
boat sailed under a white marble bridge, which soon brought her at the
steps which led into the garden of the castle.
Here the strange boat stopped and the Princess knew she was expected to
get out.
She walked up the steps into a garden filled with pink and white roses,
with a fountain of pearl and gold in the center which threw a perfumed
spray all about, which filled the air with fragrance.
There were no paths in the garden, but the grass was like green velvet
and yellow birds flittered among the small green trees and sang sweet
songs.
Through the roses and trees the Princess saw the entrance to the
castle, and on the broad steps of marble and gold came a queer-looking
creature followed by more servants than the Princess had ever seen in
her father’s palace.
The Princess did not feel at all afraid, although the strange-looking
creature had the body of a beautiful leopard, while his head was that
of the handsomest youth the Princess had ever beheld.
His hair was dark and as he came nearer to her the Princess saw that
his eyes were deep blue, the kindest eyes she had ever seen.
He held out one huge paw toward her and then withdrew it and said, “I
fear you will not care to take the paw of such a beast as I am, but I
can assure you I will not harm you, Princess.”
“I am not afraid,” said the Princess, putting out her hand, “but tell
me how you know that I am a princess?”
After the leopard-man had taken her hand he led her up the steps,
and as they walked along he told her that no one but a princess could
have entered the boat. “It had sailed for many a year in quest of the
princess who would be willing to sail away in it,” he told her, “and as
only a princess can help me, no one but a princess could get into the
enchanted boat.”
When the Princess and the leopard-man entered the castle he told her
his strange story. He was a prince who had been changed by a witch into
the shape she saw, and the only thing that could save him was a gold
root which grew far up on a blue mountain-peak.
“But that root must be brought to me by a princess and no one else,”
said the leopard-man, “so you see how impossible it is that I shall
ever regain my own shape.”
“If you will tell me where this blue mountain-peak can be found,” said
the Princess, “I will undertake the task, for I do not wish to return
to my father’s palace, and I would like to help you.”
“The enchanted boat will take you if you really wish to try,” said
the leopard-man, “but I fear it is a task you are far from fitted to
undertake, for no one can go with you; that would break the spell.”
The Princess, however, told him she would try, and at once set out on
the strange errand, the boat sailing along the river and then out into
the open sea.