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MY BOOK
OF
FAVOURITE FAIRY TALES
ILLUSTRATED BY JENNIE HARBOUR.
[Illustration: From "THE GOOSE GIRL"]
[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_
THE GOOSE GIRL]
MY BOOK OF
FAVOURITE FAIRY TALES
RETOLD BY THE EDITOR
& OTHERS
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED BY JENNIE HARBOUR
EDITED BY CAPT. EDRIC VREDENBURG
RAPHAEL TUCK &. SONS. LTP
_Publishers in Their Majesties the King & Queen_
LONDON & PARIS
DESIGNED & PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
PHILADELPHIA
DAVID MCKAY COMPANY
WASHINGTON SQUARE
[Illustration: From "THE SLEEPING BEAUTY"]
CONTENTS
THE OLD, OLD STORIES
THE GOOSE GIRL
LITTLE SNOW-WHITE
CINDERELLA
PRINCESS GOLDENHAIR
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
THE WHITE FAWN
HANSEL AND GRETHEL
SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
PRINCE CHÉRI
THE WHITE CAT
BLUEBEARD
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
TUFTY RIQUET
THUMBLING
[Illustration: From "THE WHITE FAWN"]
LIST OF COLOUR PLATES
THE GOOSE GIRL _Frontispiece_
THE MAGIC MIRROR
CINDERELLA
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
THE WHITE FAWN
HANSEL AND GRETHEL
SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
ZÉLIE AND THE FAIRY CANDIDE
BLUEBEARD
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS
[Illustration: From "PRINCESS GOLDENHAIR"]
[Illustration: From "CINDERELLA"]
THE OLD, OLD STORIES
Here they are again, the old, old stories, the very best; dear
Cinderella, wicked old Bluebeard, tiny Thumbling, beautiful Beauty and
the ugly Beast, and a host of others. But the old stories, I may tell
you, are always new, and always must be so, because there are new
children to read them every day, and to these, of course, these old
tales might have been written yesterday.
But the stories in this book are new in another way. Look how they are
clothed, look at their beautiful setting, the wonderful pictures! Have
you ever seen such charming princes and lovely princesses, such dainty
grace and delicate feeling?
What would our grandfathers and grandmothers have said of such a book!
They would have thought there was magic in the brush and pencil.
Surely we are favoured in this generation when we see before us, the
old, old fairy tales, which are ever new, dressed in such a beautiful
and splendid fashion!
_EDRIC VREDENBURG._
[Illustration: From "HANSEL AND GRETHEL"]
[Illustration]
THE GOOSE GIRL
An old queen, whose husband had been dead some years, had a beautiful
daughter. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived
a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she
got ready to set off on her journey to his country. Then the queen,
her mother, packed up a great many costly things--jewels, and gold,
and silver; trinkets, fine dresses, and, in short, everything that
became a royal bride; for she loved her child very dearly: and she
gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her, and give her into the
bridegroom's hands; and each had a horse for the journey. Now the
princess's horse was called Falada, and could speak.
When the time came for them to set out, the old queen went into her
bed-chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair,
and gave it to her daughter, and said, "Take care of it, dear child;
for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road." Then they
took a sorrowful leave of each other, and the princess put the lock of
her mother's hair into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on
her journey to her bridegroom's kingdom. One day, as they were riding
along by the side of a brook, the princess began to feel very thirsty,
and said to her maid, "Pray get down and fetch me some water, in my
golden cup, out of yonder brook, for I want to drink." "Nay," said
the maid, "if you are thirsty, get down yourself, and lie down by the
water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer." Then
the princess was so thirsty that she got down, and knelt over the
brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not bring out her
golden cup; and then she wept, and said "Alas! what will become of
me?" And the lock of hair answered her, and said--
"Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."
But the princess was very humble and meek, so she said nothing to her
maid's ill behaviour, but got upon her horse again.
Then all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and
the sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty again;
and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid's rude
speech, and said, "Pray get down and fetch me some water to drink
in my golden cup." But the maid answered her, and even spoke more
haughtily than before, "Drink, if you will, but I shall not be your
waiting-maid." Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her
horse and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and
cried, and said, "What will become of me?" And the lock of hair
answered her again--
"Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."
And as she leaned down to drink, the lock of hair fell from her bosom
and floated away with the water, without her seeing it, she was so
frightened. But her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the
charm, and saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she
had lost the hair. So when the bride had drunk, and would have got
upon Falada again, the maid said, "I shall ride upon Falada and you
may have my horse instead;" so she was forced to give up her horse,
and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes, and put on her
maid's shabby ones.
At last, as they drew near the end of the journey, this treacherous
servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told anyone what
had happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well. Then the
waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride was set upon the
other horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came
to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, the prince
hurried to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she
was the one who was to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to the
royal chamber, but the true princess was told to stay in the court
below.
[Illustration]
But the old king happened to be looking out of the window, and saw her
in the yard below; and as she looked very pretty, and too delicate for
a waiting-maid, he went into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it
was she had brought with her, that was thus left standing in the
court below. "I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the
road," said she. "Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not
be idle." The old king could not for some time think of any work for
her to do, but at last he said, "I have a lad who takes care of my
geese; she may go and help him." Now the name of this lad, that the
real bride was to help in watching the king's geese, was Curdken.
Soon after, the false bride said to the prince, "Dear husband pray do
me one piece of kindness." "That I will," said the prince. "Then tell
one of your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon,
for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road." But the
truth was, she was very much afraid lest Falada should speak, and
tell all she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the
faithful Falada was killed; but when the true princess heard of it she
wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada's head against a large
dark gate in the city through which she had to pass every morning
and evening, that there she might still see him sometimes. Then the
slaughterer said he would do as she wished; cut off the head, and
nailed it fast under the dark gate.
Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate,
she said sorrowfully--
"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"
and the head answered--
"Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."
Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese in. And when she
came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank here, and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure gold; and when Curdken
saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of
the locks out; but she cried--
"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks.
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"
[Illustration]
Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat, and
away it flew over the hills, and he after it; till, by the time he
came back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and put it up
again safe. Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak
to her at all; but they watched the geese until it grew dark in the
evening, and then drove them homewards.
The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor
girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried--
"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"
and it answered--
"Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."
Then she drove on the geese and sat down again in the meadow, and
began to comb out her hair as before, and Curdken ran up to her, and
wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly--
"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go,
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"
Then the wind came and blew his hat, and off it flew a great way, over
the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it; and when he
came back, she had done up her hair again, and all was safe. So they
watched the geese till it grew dark.
In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king,
and said, "I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the
geese any longer."
"Why?" said the king.
"Because she does nothing but tease me all day long."
Then the king made him tell all that had passed.
And Curdken said, "When we go in the morning through the dark gate
with our flock of geese, she weeps, and talks with the head of a horse
that hangs upon the wall, and says--
"'Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!'"
and the head answers--
"'Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it.'"
And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow
where the geese fed; and how his hat was blown away, and he was forced
to run after it, and leave his flock. But the old king told him to
go out again as usual the next day, and when morning came, the king
placed himself behind the gate, and heard how she spoke to Falada, and
how Falada answered; and then he went into the field and hid himself
in a bush by the meadow's side, and soon saw with his own eyes how
they drove the flock of geese, and how, after a little time, she let
down her hair that glittered in the sun; and then he heard her say--
"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks,
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"
[Illustration: "THEN THERE CAME A WIND SO STRONG THAT IT BLEW OFF
CURDKEN'S HAT."]
And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken's hat, while
the girl went on combing and curling her hair.
All this the old king saw: so he went home without being seen; and
when the little goose girl came back in the evening, he called her
aside, and asked her why she did so: but she burst into tears, and
said, "That I must not tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life."
But the old king begged so hard that she had no peace till she had
told him all, word for word: and it was very lucky for her that she
did so, for the king ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and
gazed on her with wonder, she was so beautiful.
Then he called his son, and told him that he had only the false bride,
for that she was merely a waiting-maid, while the true one stood by.
And the young king rejoiced when he saw her beauty, and heard how meek
and patient she had been; and without saying anything, ordered a great
feast to be got ready for all his court.
The bridegroom sat at the top, with the false princess on one side,
and the true one on the other; but nobody knew her, for she was quite
dazzling to their eyes, and was not at all like the little goose-girl,
now that she had her brilliant dress.
When they had eaten and drunk, and were very merry, the old king told
all the story, as one that he had once heard of, and asked the true
waiting-maid what she thought ought to be done to anyone who would
behave thus.
"Nothing better," said this false bride, "than that she should be
thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that two white
horses should be put to it, and should drag it from street to street
till she is dead."
"Thou art she!" said the old king; "and since thou hast judged
thyself, it shall be so done to thee."
And the young king was married to his true wife, and they reigned over
the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives.
[Illustration]
LITTLE SNOW-WHITE
It was in the middle of winter, when the broad flakes of snow were
falling around, that a certain queen sat working at the window, the
frame of which was made of fine black ebony; and as she was looking
out upon the snow, she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood
fell upon it. Then she gazed thoughtfully upon the red drops which
sprinkled the white snow, and said, "Would that my little daughter
may be as white as that snow, as red as the blood, and as black as the
ebony window-frame!" And so the little girl grew up: her skin was as
white as snow, her cheeks as rosy as blood, and her hair as black as
ebony; and she was called Snow-White.
But this queen died; and the king soon married another wife, who was
very beautiful, but so proud that she could not bear to think that any
one could surpass her. She had a magical looking-glass, to which she
used to go and gaze upon herself in it, and say,
"Tell me, glass, tell me true!
Of all the ladies in the land.
Who is fairest? Tell me who?"
And the glass answered, "Thou, Queen, art fairest in the land."
But Snow-White grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven
years old, she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the queen
herself. Then the glass one day answered the queen, when she went to
consult it as usual:
"Thou, Queen, may'st fair and beauteous be,
But Snow-White is lovelier far than thee!"
When she heard this she turned pale with rage and envy; and calling
to one of her servants said, "Take Snow-White away into the wide wood,
that I may never see her more." Then the servant led her away; but his
heart melted when she begged him to spare her life, and he said, "I
will not hurt thee, thou pretty child." So he left her by herself, and
though he thought it most likely that the wild beasts would tear her
to pieces, he felt as if a great weight were taken off his heart when
he had made up his mind not to kill her, but leave her to her fate.
[Illustration]
Then poor Snow-White wandered along through the wood in great fear;
and the wild beasts roared about her, but none did her any harm. In
the evening she came to a little cottage, and went in there to rest
herself, for her weary feet would carry her no further. Everything was
spruce and neat in the cottage: on the table was spread a white cloth,
and there were seven little plates with seven little loaves and seven
little glasses with wine in them; and knives and forks laid in order,
and by the wall stood seven little beds. Then, as she was very hungry,
she picked a little piece off each loaf, and drank a very little wine
out of each glass; and after that she thought she would lie down and
rest. So she tried all the little beds; and one was too long, and
another was too short, till at last the seventh suited her; and there
she laid herself down and went to sleep. Presently in came the masters
of the cottage, who were seven little dwarfs that lived among the
mountains, and dug and searched about for gold. They lighted up their
seven lamps, and saw directly that all was not right. The first said,
"Who has been sitting on my stool?" The second, "Who has been eating
off my plate?" The third, "Who has been picking at my bread?" the
fourth, "Who has been meddling with my spoon?" The fifth, "Who has
been handling my fork?" The sixth, "Who has been cutting with my
knife?" The seventh, "Who has been drinking my wine?" Then the first
looked round and said. "Who has been lying on my bed?" And the rest
came running to him, and every one cried out that somebody had been
upon his bed. But the seventh saw Snow-White, and called upon his
brethren to come and see her; and they cried out with wonder and
astonishment, and brought their lamps to look at her, and said, "Good
heavens! What a lovely child she is!" and they were delighted to see
her, and took care not to waken her; and the seventh dwarf slept an
hour with each of the other dwarfs in turn, till the night was gone.
[Illustration: THE MAGIC MIRROR--"LITTLE SNOW-WHITE"]
In the morning Snow-White told them all her story; and they pitied
her, and said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and
wash, and knit and spin for them, she might stay where she was, and
they would take good care of her. Then they went out all day long
to their work, seeking for gold and silver in the mountains; and
Snow-White remained at home: and they warned her, and said, "The queen
will soon find out where you are, so take care and let no one in." But
the queen, now that she thought Snow-White was dead, believed that
she was certainly the handsomest lady in the land; and she went to her
glass, and the glass answered,
"Thou, Queen, thou art fairest in all this land;
But over the hills, in the greenwood shade.
Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made.
There Snow-White is hiding her head; and she
Is lovelier far, O Queen, than thee."
Then the queen was very much alarmed; for she knew that the glass
always spoke the truth, and was sure that the servant had betrayed
her. And she could not bear to think that anyone lived who was more
beautiful than she was; so she disguised herself as a pedlar and went
her way over the hills to the place where the dwarfs dwelt. Then
she knocked at the door, and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" Snow-White
looked out of the window, and cried, "Good-day, good woman; what have
you to sell?" "Good wares, fine wares," said she; "laces and bobbins
of all colours." "I will let the old lady in; she seems to be a
very good sort of a body," thought Snow-White; so she ran down, and
unbolted the door. "Bless me!" said the woman, "how badly your
stays are laced. Let me lace them up with one of my nice new laces."
Snow-White did not dream of any mischief; so she stood up before
the old woman; but she set to work so nimbly, and pulled the lace so
tight, that Snow-White lost her breath, and fell down as if she were
dead. "There's an end of all thy beauty," said the spiteful queen, and
went away home.
[Illustration: "'THERE'S AN END TO ALL THY BEAUTY' SAID THE SPITEFUL
QUEEN, AND SHE WENT AWAY HOME."]
In the evening the seven dwarfs returned; and I need not say how
grieved they were to see their faithful Snow-White stretched upon the
ground motionless, as if she were quite dead. However, they lifted her
up, and when they found what was the matter, they cut the lace; and in
a little time she began to breathe, and soon came to life again. Then
they said, "The old woman was the queen herself; take care another
time, and let no one in when we are away."
When the queen got home, she went to her glass, and spoke to it, but
to her surprise it said the same words as before.
Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice to see
that Snow-White still lived; and she dressed herself up again in a
disguise, but very different from the one she wore before, and took
with her a poisoned comb, When she reached the dwarf's cottage, she
knocked at the door, and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" but Snow-White
said, "I dare not let anyone in." Then the queen begged, "Only look at
my beautiful combs;" and gave her the poisoned one. And it looked so
pretty that she took it up and put it into her hair to try it; but the
moment it touched her head the poison was so powerful that she fell
down senseless.
"There you may lie," said the queen, and went her way. But by good
luck the dwarfs returned very early that evening; and when they saw
Snow-White lying on the ground, they thought what had happened,
and soon found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away, she
recovered, and told them all that had passed; and they warned her once
more not to open the door to anyone.
[Illustration]
Meantime the queen went home to her glass, and trembled with rage
when she received exactly the same answer as before; and she said
"Snow-White shall die, if it costs me my life." So she went secretly
into a chamber, and prepared a poisoned apple; the outside looked very
rosy and tempting, but whosoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she
dressed herself up as a peasant's wife, and travelled over the hills
to the dwarfs' cottage, and knocked at the door; but Snow-White put
her head out of the window, and said, "I dare not let anyone in, for
the dwarfs have told me not to." "Do as you please," said the old
woman, "but at any rate take this pretty apple; I will make you a
present of it." "No," said Snow-White, "I dare not take it." "You
silly girl!" answered the other, "what are you afraid of? Do you think
it is poisoned? Come! do you eat one part, and I will eat the other."
Now the apple was so prepared that one side was good, though the other
side was poisoned. Then Snow-White was very much tempted to taste, for
the apple looked exceedingly nice; and when she saw the old woman eat,
she could refrain no longer. But she had scarcely put the piece into
her mouth, when she fell down dead upon the ground. "This time nothing
will save thee," said the queen; and she went home to her glass, and
at last it said,
"Thou, Queen, art the fairest of all the fair."
And then her envious heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart
could be.
When evening came, and the dwarfs returned home, they found Snow-White
lying on the ground; no breath passed her lips, and they were afraid
that she was quite dead. They lifted her up, and combed her hair,
and washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain, for the
little girl seemed quite dead. So they laid her down upon a bier, and
all seven watched and bewailed her three whole days; and then they
proposed to bury her; but her cheeks were still rosy, and her face
looked just as it did while she was alive; so they said, "We will
never bury her in the cold ground." And they made a coffin of glass
so that they might still look at her, and wrote her name upon it in
golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. And the coffin
was placed upon the hill, and one of the dwarfs always sat by it and
watched. And the birds of the air came too, and bemoaned Snow-White.
First of all came an owl, and then a raven, but at last came a dove.
And thus Snow-White lay for a long, long time, and still only looked
as though she were asleep; for she was even now as white as snow,
and as red as blood, and as black as ebony. At last a prince came and
called at the dwarfs' house; and he saw Snow-White, and read what
was written in gold letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and
earnestly prayed them to let him take her away; but they said, "We
will not part with her for all the gold in the world." At last,
however, they had pity on him, and gave him the coffin; but the moment
he lifted it up to carry it home with him, the piece of apple fell
from between her lips, and Snow-White awoke, and said, "Where am I?"
And the prince answered, "Thou art safe with me." Then he told her all
that had happened, and said, "I love you better than all the world;
come with me to my father's palace, and you shall be my wife." And
Snow-White consented, and went home with the prince; and everything
was prepared with great pomp and splendour for their wedding.
To the feast was invited, among the rest, Snow-White's old enemy,
the queen; and as she was dressing herself in fine, rich clothes, she
looked, in the glass, and the glass answered,
"Thou, lady, art the loveliest _here_, I ween;
But lovelier far is the new-made queen."
When she heard this, she started with rage; but her envy and curiosity
were so great, that she could not help setting out to see the bride.
And when she arrived, and saw that it was none other than Snow-White,
who she thought had been dead a long while, she choked with passion,
and fell ill and died; but Snow-White and the prince lived and reigned
happily over that land many, many years.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CINDERELLA
The wife of a rich man fell sick: and when she felt that her end drew
nigh, she called her only daughter to her bedside, and said, "Always
be a good girl, and I will look down from heaven and watch over you."
Soon afterwards she shut her eyes and died, and was buried in the
garden; and the little girl went every day to her grave and wept,
and was always good and kind to all about her. And the snow spread a
beautiful white covering over the grave: but by the time the sun had
melted it away again, her father had married another wife. This new
wife had two daughters of her own, that she brought home with her:
they were fair in face but foul at heart, and it was now a sorry time
for the poor little girl. "What does the good-for-nothing thing want
in the parlour?" said they; "they who would eat bread should first
earn it; away with the kitchen maid!" Then they took away her fine
clothes, and gave her an old frock to put on, and laughed at her and
turned her into the kitchen.
Then she was forced to do hard work; to rise early, before daylight,
to bring the water, to make the fire, to cook and to wash. Besides
that, the sisters plagued her in all sorts of ways and laughed at her.
In the evening, when she was tired, she had no bed to lie down on, but
was made to sleep by the hearth among the ashes; and then, as she was
of course always dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.
It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and asked his
wife's daughters what he should bring them. "Fine clothes," said the
first: "Pearls and diamonds," said the second. "Now, child," said he
to his own daughter, "what will you have?" "The first sprig, dear
father, that rubs against your hat on your way home," said she. Then
he bought for the two first the fine clothes and pearls and diamonds
they had asked for: and on his way home as he rode through a green
copse, a sprig of hazel brushed against him, and almost pushed off his
hat; so he broke it off and brought it away; and when he got home he
gave it to his daughter. Then she took it and went to her mother's
grave and planted it there, and cried so much that it was watered with
her tears; and there it grew and became a fine tree. Three times every
day she went to it and wept; and soon a little bird came and built
its nest upon the tree, and talked with her and watched over her, and
brought her whatever she wished for.
Now it happened that the king of the land held a feast which was to
last three days, and out of those who came to it his son was to choose
a bride for himself; and Cinderella's two sisters were asked to come.
So they called her up and said, "Now, comb our hair, brush our shoes,
and tie our sashes for us, for we are going to dance at the king's
feast." Then she did as she was told, but when all was done she could
not help crying, for she thought to herself, she would have liked to
go to the dance too; and at last she begged her mother very hard to
let her go. "You! Cinderella?" said she; "you who have nothing to
wear, no clothes at all, and who cannot even dance--you want to go to
the ball?" And when she kept on begging--to get rid of her, she said
at last, "I will throw this basinful of peas into the ash heap, and
if you have picked them all out in two hours' time you shall go to
the feast too." Then she threw the peas into the ashes; but the little
maiden ran out at the back door into the garden, and cried out--
"Hither, hither, through the sky.
Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
Hither, hither, haste away!
One and all, come help me quick,
Haste ye, haste ye--pick, pick, pick!"
[Illustration]
Then first came two white doves flying in at the kitchen window; and
next came two turtle-doves; and after them all the little birds under
heaven came chirping and fluttering in, and flew down into the ashes;
and the little doves stooped their heads down and set to work, pick,
pick, pick; and then the others began to pick, pick, pick; and picked
out all the good grain and put it in a dish, and left the ashes. At
the end of one hour the work was done, and all flew out again at the
windows. Then Cinderella brought the dish to her mother, overjoyed at
the thought that now she should go to the feast. But she said, "No,
no! Girl, you have no clothes and cannot dance, you shall not go." And
when Cinderella begged very hard to go, she said, "If you can in one
hour's time pick two of these dishes of peas out of the ashes, you
shall go too." And thus she thought she should at last get rid of her.
So she shook two dishes of peas into the ashes; but the little maiden
went out into the garden at the back of the house, and cried as
before--
"Hither, hither, through the sky.
Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
Hither, hither, haste away!
One and all, come help me quick,
Haste ye, haste ye--pick, pick, pick!"
Then first came two white doves in at the kitchen window; and next
came the turtle-doves; and after them all the little birds under
heaven came chirping and hopping about, and flew down about the ashes;
and the little doves put their heads down and set to work, pick, pick,
pick; and then the others began to pick, pick, pick; and they put
all the good grain into the dishes, and left all the ashes, Before
half-an-hour's time all was done, and out they flew again. And then
Cinderella took the dishes to her mother, rejoicing to think that she
should now go to the ball. But her mother said, "It is all of no use,
you cannot go, you have no clothes, and cannot dance, and you would
only put us to shame:" and off she went with her two daughters to the
feast.
Now when all were gone, and nobody left at home, Cinderella went
sorrowfully and sat down under the hazel-tree, and cried out--
"Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver over me!"
Then her friend the bird flew out of the tree and brought a gold and
silver dress for her, and slippers of spangled silk; and she put them
on, and followed her sisters to the feast. But they did not know her,
and thought it must be some strange princess, she looked so fine
and beautiful in her rich clothes; and they never once thought of
Cinderella, but took for granted that she was safe at home in the
dirt.
[Illustration: _Painted by Jennie Harbour_
CINDERELLA]
[Illustration]
The king's son soon came up to her, and took her by the hand and
danced with her and no one else; and he never left her hand; but when
any one else came to ask her to dance, he said, "This lady is dancing
with me." Thus they danced till a late hour of the night, and then she
wanted to go home: and the king's son said, "I shall go and take care
of you to your home;" for he wanted to see where the beautiful maid
lived. But she slipped away from him unawares, and ran off towards
home, and the prince followed her; but she jumped up into the
pigeon-house and shut the door. Then he waited till her father came
home, and told him that the unknown maiden who had been at the feast
had hidden herself in the pigeon-house. But when they had broken open
the door they found no one within; and as they came back into the
house, Cinderella lay as she always did, in her dirty frock by the
ashes, and her dim little lamp burnt in the chimney; for she had
run as quickly as she could through the pigeon-house and on to the
hazel-tree, and had there taken off her beautiful clothes, and laid
them beneath the tree, that the bird might carry them away, and had
seated herself amid the ashes again in her little old frock.
The next day, when the feast was again held, and her father, mother,
and sisters were gone, Cinderella went to the hazel tree, and said--
"Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver over me!"
And the bird came and brought a still finer dress than the one she had
worn the day before. And when she came in it to the ball, every one
wondered at her beauty; but the king's son, who was waiting for her,
took her by the hand, and danced with her; and when any one asked
her to dance, he said as before, "This lady is dancing with me." When
night came she wanted to go home; and the king's son followed her as
before, that he might see into what house she went; but she sprang
away from him, all at once, into the garden behind her father's house.
In this garden stood a fine large pear tree full of ripe fruit; and
Cinderella, not knowing where to hide herself, jumped up into it
without being seen. Then the king's son could not find out where she
was gone, but waited till her father came home, and said to him, "The
unknown lady who danced with me has slipped away, and I think she must
have sprung into the pear tree." The father thought to himself, "Can
it be Cinderella?" So he ordered an axe to be brought; and they cut
down the tree, but found no one upon it. And when they came back into
the kitchen, there lay Cinderella in the ashes as usual; for she had
slipped down on the other side of the tree, and carried her beautiful
clothes back to the bird at the hazel tree, and then put on her little
old frock.
The third day, when her father and mother and sisters were gone she
went again into the garden, and said---
"Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver over me!"
Then her kind friend the bird brought a dress still finer than the
former ones, and slippers which were all of gold; so that when she
came to the feast no one knew what to say for wonder at her beauty;
and the king's son danced with her alone; and when any one else asked
her to dance he said, "This lady is my partner." Now when night came
she wanted to go home; and the king's son would go with her, and said
to himself, "I will not lose her this time;" but, however, she managed
to slip away from him, though in such a hurry that she dropped her
left golden slipper upon the stairs.
[Illustration: "SHE SPRANG AWAY FROM HIM, ALL AT ONCE, INTO THE GARDEN
BEHIND HER FATHER'S HOUSE."]
So the prince took the shoe, and went the next day to the king his
father, and said, "I will take for my wife the lady that this golden
shoe fits." Then both the sisters were overjoyed to hear this; for
they had beautiful feet, and had no doubt that they could wear the
golden slipper. The eldest went first into the room where the slipper
was, and wanted to try it on, and the mother stood by. But her great
toe could not go into it, and the shoe was altogether much too small
for her. Then the mother gave her a knife, and said, "Never mind, cut
it off; when you are queen you will not care about toes, you will
not want to go on foot." So the silly girl cut her great toe off, and
squeezed the shoe on, and went to the king's son. Then he took her for
his bride, and set her beside him on his horse and rode away with
her. But on their way home they had to pass by the hazel tree that
Cinderella had planted and there sat a little dove on the branch
singing---
"Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
For she's not the true one that sits by thy side."
Then the prince got down and looked at her foot, and saw by the blood
that streamed from it what a trick she had played him. So he turned
his horse round and brought the false bride back to her home, and
said, "This is not the right bride; let the other sister try and put
on the slipper." Then she went into the room and got her foot into the
shoe, all but the heel, which was too large. But her mother squeezed
it in till the blood came, and took her to the king's son; and he set
her as his bride beside him on his horse, and rode away with her. But
when they came to the hazel tree the little dove sat there still, and
sang--
"Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
For she's not the true one that sits by thy side."
[Illustration]
Then he looked down and saw that the blood streamed so from the shoe
that her white stockings were quite red. So he turned his horse and
brought her back again also. "This is not the true bride," said he to
the father; "have you no other daughters?" "No," said he; "there is
only a little dirty Cinderella here, the child of my first wife; I am
sure she cannot be the bride." However, the prince told him to send
her. But the mother said, "No, no, she is much too dirty, she will not
dare to show herself;" still the prince would have her come. And she
first washed her face and hands, and then went in and curtsied to him,
and he handed to her the golden slipper.
Then she took her clumsy shoe off her left foot and put on the golden
slipper; and it fitted her as if it had been made for her. And when
the Prince drew near and looked at her face he knew her, and said,
"This is the right bride."
But the mother and both the sisters were frightened and turned pale
with anger as he took Cinderella on his horse, and rode away with her.
And when they came to the hazel tree, the white dove sang--
"Home! home! look at the shoe!
Princess! the shoe was made for you!
Prince! prince! take home thy bride.
For she is the true one that sits by thy side!"
And when the dove had done its song, it came flying and perched upon
her shoulder, and so went home with her.
PRINCESS GOLDENHAIR
There was once a King's daughter who was the most beautiful thing in
the world, and as her hair was fair and reached to her feet she was
called the Princess Goldenhair.
A handsome young King in the neighbourhood, although he had never seen
this Princess, fell so deeply in love with her from what he had heard,
that he could neither eat nor sleep.
So an ambassador was sent with a magnificent chariot, more than a
hundred horses, and fifty pages, to bring the Princess to the King,
and great preparations were made for her reception.
[Illustration: "AN AMBASSADOR WAS SENT WITH MORE THAN A HUNDRED
HORSES, AND FIFTY PAGES TO BRING THE PRINCESS TO THE KING."]
But whether the Princess Goldenhair was in an ill humour when the
ambassador arrived at her Court, or whatever was the reason, certain
it is that she sent a message to the young King thanking him but
saying that she did not wish to marry.
When the King heard of her refusal he wept like a child.
Now at his Court there was a young man called Avenant. He was as
beautiful as the sun, and a more finely made fellow than any in the
kingdom; everybody loved him except a few envious people, who were
angry because the King favoured and confided in him, and in the
presence of these, one day, Avenant incautiously remarked,
"If the King had sent me to fetch the Princess Goldenhair, I am
certain she would have come," and these words were repeated to the
King in such a manner that they made him very angry, and he ordered
Avenant to be shut up in a high tower, to die of hunger.
In this sad plight, Avenant exclaimed one day, "How have I offended
his Majesty? He has no more faithful subject than I."
The King who happened to be passing by the tower, heard this; he
called for Avenant to be brought forth who, throwing himself on his
knees, begged to know in what way he had offended his royal master.
"You mocked me," said the King, "you said that you would have
succeeded with the Princess Goldenhair where I have failed."
"It is true, sir," replied Avenant, "I did say so, for I would have
represented your noble qualities in such a way, that she could not
help being persuaded."
The King was convinced of the young man's sincerity, and with a letter
of introduction, Avenant set out for the Court of the goldenhaired
beauty, riding alone, according to his wish, and thinking as he went
how he best could woo the Princess for his beloved master.
One day, alighting from his horse to write down some suitable words
that had come into his mind, he saw a golden carp who, leaping from
the water to catch flies, had thrown herself upon the river bank, and
was now nearly dead.
Avenant pitied the poor thing, and put her carefully back into
the water. Recovering directly, the carp dived to the bottom, but
returning to the edge of the river, said,
"Avenant, I thank you; you have saved my life, I will repay you;" then
she swam off leaving the young man in great astonishment.
Another day as Avenant journeyed he noticed a raven who was pursued by
an eagle. "What right has that eagle to persecute the raven? thought
Avenant, and he drew his bow and shot the fierce bird. The raven
perched on a bough and cried.
"Avenant you have saved my life, I will not be ungrateful, I will
repay you."
[Illustration]
Not long after this, Avenant found an owl caught in a snare, he cut
the strings, and freed the trembling captive. "Avenant," said the owl,
"you have saved my life, I will repay you."
These three adventures were the most important that befell Avenant,
and he went on his way, shortly before he arrived at his destination
purchasing a beautiful little dog named Cabriole.
When Avenant reached the Palace of the Princess Goldenhair, and saw
the Princess seated upon her throne, she looked so lovely that at
first all his fine speeches forsook him, and he could not utter a
word; however, taking courage, he addressed her in exquisitely chosen
language, begging her to become the King's bride.
To this the Princess replied most graciously, saying that his petition
moved her more than any other could do, "but know," she added, "as I
was walking by the river a month ago, as I took off my glove, a ring,
that I greatly value, fell into the water, and I have vowed that I
will not heed any proposal of marriage, except from the ambassador who
brings me back my ring."
Sad at heart Avenant left the Palace, but his little dog, Cabriole,
said, "My dear master, do not despair, you are too good to be unhappy.
Early to-morrow morning let us go to the river-side." Avenant patted
him, but did not answer, and, still sad, fell asleep.
As soon as it was day, Cabriole awoke him saying, "Dress yourself, my
master, and come out."
They wandered down to the river, and there Avenant heard a voice
calling him, and what should he see but the golden carp, with the
Princess's ring in her mouth. "Take it, dear Avenant," said she, "I
promised to repay you for saving my life, and now I can fulfil my
promise."
Thanking her a thousand times, Avenant, going at once to the Palace,
said, "Princess, your command is fulfilled; may it please you to
receive the King, my master, as your husband."
The Princess thought she must be dreaming when she saw the ring, but
she set Avenant another task.
"Not far from here there is a prince named Galifron," said she; "he
wishes to marry me, and threatens to ravish my kingdom if I refuse;
but how can I accept him? He is a giant, taller than my highest tower,
he eats a man as a monkey would eat a chestnut, and when he speaks,
his voice is so loud that it deafens those who hear him. He will not
take my refusal, but kills my subjects. You must fight and bring me
his head."
[Illustration]
"Well, madam," replied Avenant, "I will fight Galifron; I expect I
shall be killed, but I shall die a brave man." And, taking Cabriole,
Avenant set out for Galifron's country, asking news of the giant as he
went along, and the more he heard the more he feared him, but Cabriole
reassured him. "My dear master," said the little dog, "while you are
fighting him I will bite his legs, then he will stoop to chase me, and
you will kill him." Avenant admired the bravery of the little dog, but
he knew his help would not be sufficient.
Presently they perceived how the roads were covered with the bones of
the men that Galifron had eaten, and soon they saw the giant coming
towards them through a wood. His head was higher than the highest
trees, and he sang in a terrific voice:
"Where are the children small, so small,
With my teeth I will crush them all,
On so many would I feed, feed, feed.
The whole world can't supply my need."
Using the same tune, Avenant began to sing:
"Look down, here is Avenant beneath, beneath
He will draw from your head, the teeth, the teeth
Although he is not very big, 'tis true,
He is able to fight with such as you."
The giant put himself into a terrible passion, and would have killed
Avenant with one blow, only a raven from above flew at his head, and
pecked him straight in the eyes, so violently that he was blinded. He
began striking out on all sides, but Avenant avoided his blows, and
with his sword pierced him so many times that at last he fell to the
ground. Then Avenant cut off his head, and the raven, who had perched
on a tree, said,
"I have not forgotten how you rescued me from the eagle; I promised to
repay you, I think I have done so to-day."
"I owe everything to you, Mr. Raven," responded Avenant, as, holding
Galifron's head, he rode off.
When he entered the town, crowds followed him crying, "Here is the
brave Avenant who has slain the monster."
Avenant advanced to the Princess, and said, "Madam, your enemy is
dead. I hope you will no more refuse the King, my master."
"Although it is so," answered the Princess, "I shall refuse him unless
you will bring me some water from the Grotto of Darkness. At the
entrance there are two dragons, with fire in their eyes and mouths;
inside the grotto there is a deep pit into which you must descend, it
is full of toads, scorpions, and serpents. At the bottom of this pit
there is a little cave where flows the fountain of beauty and health.
Positively I must possess the water; all who wash in it, if they are
beautiful, continue so always, if they are ugly they become beautiful;
if they are young they remain young, if they are old they regain their
youth. You cannot wonder, Avenant, that I will not leave my kingdom
without taking it with me."
So once more Avenant and Cabriole set out; they journeyed on until
they came to a rock, black as ink, from which smoke was issuing, and
a moment later there appeared one of the dragons belching forth fire
from his eyes and mouth. He was a frightful looking creature with a
green and yellow body, and his tail was so long that it went into a
hundred curves. Avenant saw all this, but resolved to die, he drew his
sword, and, carrying the flask the Princess had given to him to hold
the water, he said to Cabriole:
"My days are ended, I can never obtain that water the dragons are
guarding; when I am dead, fill this flask with my blood and carry it
to the Princess, that she may know what it has cost me, then go to the
King, my master, and tell him of my misfortune."
As he was speaking, a voice called, "Avenant, Avenant," and looking
around he saw an owl. "You saved my life from the fowlers," said the
owl. "I promised to repay you, the time has now come. Give me your
flask. I will bring you the water of beauty."
And carrying the flask, the owl entered the grotto, unhindered,
returning in less than a quarter of an hour with it full to the brim.
Avenant thanked the owl heartily, and joyously started for the town,
where he presented the flask to the Princess, who immediately gave
orders to prepare for her departure.
But as she considered Avenant altogether charming, before she set out,
she several times said to him: "If you wish, we need not go, for I
will make you king of my country." But Avenant made reply:
"I would not displease my master for all the kingdoms of earth,
although your beauty I consider greater than that of the sun."
Thus they arrived at the King's capital, and the wedding took place
amidst great rejoicings; but Princess Goldenhair, who loved Avenant
from the depths of her heart, was not happy unless she could see him,
and was for ever singing his praises. "I should not have come, had it
not been for Avenant," she told the King, "you ought to be very much
obliged to him." Then the envious courtiers counselled the King, and
Avenant was cast once more into the tower, chained hand and foot. When
Princess Goldenhair heard of this imprisonment, she fell on her knees
before the King, and begged for Avenant's release; but he would not
heed her, so that she became saddened and would speak no more.
Then the King thought: "Maybe I am not handsome enough to please her!"
so he determined to wash his face in the water of beauty.