Then the King proclaimed throughout the land that if anyone could discover the secret, then he could choose whichever of the Princesses he liked best to become his wife, and he should become King himself when the old King died. But if anyone should try for three days and three nights and still did not succeed, then he should be put to death.
Before long a handsome Prince arrived at the court to try his luck. He was given a room next to the Princesses’ own, and when he went to bed, he left the door open, so that nothing could take place without his knowing it. He lay down on his bed, determined to stay awake all night and watch. But despite himself he soon fell asleep, and when he woke it was to find that it was already morning and the Princesses’ shoes, as usual, were quite worn out, their soles tattered and full of holes. The same thing happened again on the second night and on the third, and so the King, true to his word, ordered the young man’s head to be cut off.
Several more suitors came to try their luck, but exactly the same thing happened to them, too, and they all lost their heads.
Now it happened that an old soldier, who had been wounded in battle and could fight no longer, was passing through the country where this king reigned. And as he was travelling through a wood he met an old woman who asked him where he was going.
“That I hardly know,” replied the soldier. “But what I should like best in the world would be to find out where it is that the Princesses dance at night. Because then I should become king one day, and that I would like!”
“That’s easy enough,” the old woman told him, “if you do as I tell you. In the evening, one of the Princesses will bring you some wine. Take care not to drink it, and when she has gone, pretend to be asleep.”
Then the old woman gave him a cloak.
“Take this,” she said. “As soon as you put it on, you will become invisible, and then you can follow the Princesses wherever they go.”
The soldier thanked her and went on his way to the King’s palace.
That night he was given a room next to the Princesses’ own chamber. Just as he was going to lie down the eldest Princess came to him with a goblet of wine. But the soldier, remembering the words of the old woman, did not drink it, and when the Princess had gone he lay down and began to snore loudly, pretending to be asleep.
When the twelve Princesses heard this they laughed, and immediately they got up and began to dress in all their finery. They skipped and laughed and fidgeted as if they could hardly wait to begin dancing. But the youngest Princess was very quiet, and when the others asked her why, she replied, “I do not know. But I have the strangest feeling that all is not well.”
The other Princesses only laughed and called her a simpleton.
“Just listen to him snoring!” they cried. “We have tricked a dozen princes, haven’t we? So why should we not trick this old soldier?”
They took a last peep at him as he lay snoring on his bed, and then the eldest Princess went to her bed and clapped her hands. The bed sank into the floor and a trapdoor opened. Down went the twelve Princesses, one by one, with the eldest leading. The soldier leapt up, snatched up the cloak that made him invisible, and followed them.
In his haste he trod on the gown of the youngest Princess when they were halfway down the steps. She started, and cried out to her sisters, “All is not well! Someone caught hold of my gown!”
“Silly creature,” called the eldest over her shoulder. “It’s nothing but a nail in the wall!”
Down they went, and came out at last into a beautiful grove of trees. The leaves were all of gleaming silver, and the solider, who had never seen such a sight before, reached and broke off a branch from a nearby tree. There was a loud snapping noise, and the youngest Princess cried, “All is not well! Did you hear that noise?” But the eldest replied, “It is only our Princes you hear, shouting for joy because we are coming!”
They came then into a second grove where the leaves were all of gold, and then into a third, where they glittered with diamonds. And in each grove the soldier snapped a branch from a tree, and each time the youngest Princess heard, and cried out in fear. But her sisters only laughed the more.
Soon they came to a great lake. On the water lay twelve little boats with a handsome Prince in each, and how the Princesses laughed and clapped to see them. One of the Princesses stepped into each boat, and when it was the turn of the youngest, the soldier stepped into the boat with her.
“It is hard work rowing tonight,” remarked the Prince when they were halfway over the lake. “I am quite worn out.”
From the other side of the lake came the sound of music, silvery horns and trumpets, and the soldier saw a magnificent castle with lighted windows. And as soon as they reached the shore the twelve Princesses ran inside and soon were dancing merrily, each with her own Prince.
The soldier himself danced invisibly among them, and amused himself by playing a game. Every time one of the Princesses had a goblet of wine set by her he drank it all up, so that when she put the glass to her mouth, it was empty.
The youngest Princess was very frightened by this, but each time the eldest sister silenced her.
So they danced until cockcrow, until their slippers were quite worn out, and so they had to stop. The twelve Princes rowed their partners back across the lake, and this time the soldier went in the boat with the eldest Princess. When they came to the stairs the soldier ran ahead and managed to be back in bed snoring by the time the Princesses stepped back into their own room. They peeped in and saw him there and whispered to each other, “We’re quite safe. See – he’s fast asleep!”
And they pulled off their tattered slippers, yawning as they did so, and were soon fast asleep themselves.
The soldier could easily have told the secret to the King the very next day, but he wished to see more of this mysterious adventure. So he went again with the Princesses the next night, and again on the third night. But on this last visit, he took away with him a golden cup from the castle, to prove where he had been.
Next morning he was summoned to the King, and he took with him the three branches of silver, gold and diamonds, and the golden cup. The twelve Princesses stood listening at the door, whispering and nudging each other, sure that their secret was safe.
But soon they were staring at each other round-eyed as the soldier began his tale. And when the eldest, who had her eye to the keyhole, saw him take out the three branches and the golden cup and show them to the King, she knew there was no use denying what he said. So the twelve Princesses trooped into the room and confessed the whole story to their father.
“Which of the Princesses will you choose for your wife?” asked the King, when all had been told.
“I am not so young any more,” replied the soldier, “so I think I will choose the eldest.”
And so they were married, and in time the soldier became king of the whole country, thanks to the old woman in the woods and her good advice.
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Once upon a time there lived an Emperor whose greatest delight in life was the wearing and showing off of his rich clothes. It was all he really cared about. If he went to the theatre, or for a drive through the streets, it was only because he wanted everyone to see and admire him. He changed his clothes half a dozen times a day, and often his courtiers, instead of saying “The Emperor’s in the Council” would say, “The Emperor’s in the Wardrobe.”
One day, two travellers came to the court.
“We beg to be allowed to make Your Excellency a new suit of clothes,” they said. “We make the most beautiful clothes in the world, and the one we should like to weave for you is a very special one indeed.”
“Indeed? Tell me about it,” replied the Emperor, preening himself.
“It is beautiful beyond compare,” said the weavers. “But that is not all. It can only be seen by those who are clever and wise and well suited to their jobs. Those who are dull or stupid or not fit to do their jobs, can’t see a single thing. It’s quite
invisible to them.”
“Invisible?” exclaimed the Emperor.
“Invisible,” nodded the two men.
“Now this will be very interesting,” thought the Emperor. “For one thing, I shall have another fine new suit of clothes. For another, I shall be able to find out who is clever and who is stupid.”
“It will be very expensive,” added one of the two men. “Naturally. And we shall require a thousand gold pieces in advance.”
The Emperor gave orders that the two men were to be given a loom and all the materials they asked for. They set the loom up in a room in the palace and began to order vast quantities of silks and threads – especially gold threads. As soon as these arrived, they stuffed them all into their bags and began to work at the empty looms all day and well into the night.
The Emperor could hardly wait to see his new suit. But every time he thought about it he had a queer sinking feeling inside him, when he remembered that it would be quite invisible to anyone who was stupid or not fitted for his job.
“Not, of course, that it could possibly apply to me,” he thought. “Everyone says how clever I am, and of course I am the very man to be Emperor!”
All the same, he kept away from the room where the men were working. On the second day he could contain his curiosity no longer and sent one of his most trusted ministers to see how the work was going.
“He will certainly be able to see the cloth,” the Emperor told himself. “A wiser man I have never known.”
The old Minister went into the room where the work was going on and stared in amazement at the sight of two men busily working away at what looked like a perfectly empty loom. He rubbed his eyes. Still the loom was empty.
“Dear me,” thought the Minister. “Am I really stupid? But whatever happens, I mustn’t admit it. I must pretend to see the cloth and admire it, to show the world how wise I am, and how well suited to my job!”
“Well, do you like it?” asked one of the men, stepping back as if to admire his work.
“O gracious, yes!” cried the old man. “Upon my word! I hardly know what to say! What colours, what a design, what a perfectly ravishing piece of work!”
“We thought you would like it,” said the cunning pair. “Perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell his Excellency how well it’s going? And while you’re at it, we shall also need a few more thousand yards of gold thread, and a couple of sacks of pearls.”
“O certainly, yes, certainly!” agreed the Minister. “I shall see to it at once!”
Off he went, quite bewildered, and more than a little sad, because he had always tried to serve the Emperor wisely and well, and now it seemed that he was nothing but a simpleton. But even if he were stupid, there was no point in telling everyone so, and he assured the Emperor that the cloth being woven for his new suit was quite the most exquisite he had ever seen in his whole life.
“Good,” thought the Emperor. “My Minister is a wise man.”
But still he was not quite ready to face seeing the cloth himself, and next day he sent two courtiers to see how the work was going. By now, everyone in the kingdom had heard of the wonderful cloth that could be seen only by the wise and the clever. The two courtiers came back rather pale, but praising the work highly, and bringing an order for still more gold thread and silks.
At last the day came when the Emperor simply had to go and see for himself. He went into the room, and there were the two men working away for dear life on a loom that had not a single thread or stitch to be seen! The Emperor was horrified.
“I’m a fool!” he thought. “I’m a simpleton! I’m unfit for my job! O dear, O dear!”
But he forced a smile to his lips, because everyone was watching him to see what he would say.
“Ravishing!” he said at last. No one spoke.
“Ravishing!” he said again, more loudly this time, and immediately all the courtiers and officials who were with him began saying to one another, “Ravishing! Wonderful! Miraculous! Out of this world!”
“I shall appoint you Lord High Weavers,” said the Emperor, and gave each of the men a medal to pin on his suit.
“Your Excellency must wear a suit made of this cloth for the Grand Procession next week!” said the Chief Courtier, determined not to be outdone in praising the cloth. After all, he told himself, if the Emperor could see the cloth, it must be there!
“O – should I?” said the Emperor. “You don’t think my scarlet silk, with the gold lace cuffs and —”
“No, Your Excellency, with respect,” said the Chief Courtier. “This very cloth. You owe it to your people. They have all heard of this wonderful cloth, and can hardly wait to see it. At least,” he coughed behind his hand, “the wise ones can hardly wait to see it!”
The court laughed merrily and the Emperor himself managed to force out a titter.
Before the Grand Procession the two weavers worked all night with sixteen candles burning. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, their great scissors clipped at the air, and they stitched busily with empty needles. No one could doubt that they were actually making a suit of clothes.
Then the Emperor arrived with his courtiers. The weavers bowed before him with a great flourish and then held out their arms saying, “Here is the coat, here are the breeches, and this is the cloak! We beg you to try them, for we’re sure you’ll be delighted. You won’t even know you have anything on, because the cloth is so fine that it’s light as gossamer!”
The Emperor took off the clothes he was wearing and they pretended to put on him the clothes they had made.
“How does that feel?” they asked, and “It’s not too tight is it, Your Excellency?”
“O no, no, I assure you!” cried the Emperor, craning and peering before the glass in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of the suit and prove himself not such a fool after all. “It’s the most comfortable suit I have ever worn.”
“The fit is wonderful!” sighed the courtiers, shaking their heads. “And as for the colours! And the design! Magnificent!”
Two chamberlains stooped and picked up the invisible train. The Emperor was ready.
Outside the palace the streets were packed with excited people all waiting for the first glimpse of the Emperor’s new clothes.
The Emperor stepped out of the palace and felt his skin break out into a rash of goose pimples. There was a short silence, and then a great cheer went up. People leaned out of the windows, crying,
“Hurrah! Hurrah for the Emperor’s new clothes!”
“Just look at that coat!”
“What style, what colours, what fit!”
Not a single person there was ready to admit that in fact he could see nothing at all. Every man shouted more loudly than his neighbour, to prove that he could see the clothes and was clever and wise and fitted for his job.
The Emperor himself, deafened by the applause and shouting, was just beginning to rid himself of a strong suspicion that he was walking out stark naked, when a child’s voice rang out from the crowd,
“But he’s got nothing on!”
There was a hush. The Emperor kept his eyes fixed ahead and felt the goose pimples break out afresh. The voice came again in the silence, clear and high, because it came from a little child who didn’t care a fig whether he was thought wise or not.
“He hasn’t got anything on!” A whispering went through the crowd.
“There’s a child here says the Emperor’s got nothing on! Not a stitch on, he says!”
The whisper grew louder, it hissed like waves on the shingle,
“Not a stitch on! Nothing on at all!”
Until at last they all shouted out together,
“Why, but he hasn’t anything on at all!”
The Emperor groaned inwardly, for he knew they were right. He only needed his goose pimples to tell him that. But he was, after all, the Emperor, so he pretended not to have heard. He drew himself up more proudly than ever and walked on, with the chamberlains stiffly behind him
, bearing the train that wasn’t even there.
The Princess and the Pea
There was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess, but she must be a real Princess. He travelled the world far and wide in search of her, but though he met many Princesses of every kind, he could never be quite certain in his own heart whether or not she was a real Princess. There was always some little fault with each one that seemed to show him that she was not his true bride.
At last, sad at heart, because he really did wish to marry, he returned home.
One night soon afterwards there was a terrible storm. The thunder roared and the lightning flashed and the rain came down in sheets and in the midst of it all came a knocking at the palace gates.
The King went to see who was there, and there stood a Princess, looking a very sad sight indeed. Water trickled from her hair and poured from her clothes and her shoes squelched as she stepped inside. But she said that she was a real Princess and that she wished to stay for the night.
“We shall see whether she is a real Princess or not,” thought the old Queen, who found it hard to believe that the girl was a Princess at all, with her bedraggled locks and ruined clothes.
She went into the guest chamber and there made up the bed in a special way. First she took all the bedclothes off and laid a single pea on the bedstead. Then she took twenty mattresses and piled them on top of the pea, and next piled twenty feather beds on top of the mattresses. The Princess was shown to her chamber and climbed up into the bed.
Next morning when she rose the Queen asked her,
“And did you sleep well last night?”
“I hardly slept a wink!” replied the Princess. “I tossed and turned the whole night through. I could feel something hard digging into me, and sure enough, I’m black and blue all over this morning. It was terrible!”
A Treasury of Fairy Tales Page 6