by Howard Pyle
Now as the Princess sat there, there came along the old goose-herd of the palace, and with her came her daughter; for they were driving the royal geese home again from where they had been eating grass. When they saw the beautiful Princess, clad in her ram’s hide, they stared as though they would never shut their eyes again. Then they wanted to know all about her — who she was, and where she came from, and what she sat there for. So the Princess told them all that they wanted to know, and that she waited there for the Prince to come with a dress all of silver and gold, which would suit her better than the old ram’s hide which she wore.
Then the old goose-woman thought that it would be a fine thing to have her daughter in the Princess’s place, so that she might have the dress of real silver and gold, and marry the Prince. So the goose-herd’s daughter held the Princess, and the old goose-herd stripped the ram’s hide off from her.
No sooner had they done this than the Princess was changed into a beautiful golden bird, and flew away over hill and over valley. Then the goose-herd’s daughter clad herself in the ram’s hide, and sat down in the Princess’s place.
“The Gooseherd & her Daughter meet the Princess at the Roadside”
“Yes, my pretty little bird,” said the old goose-herd, “thou wilt make a fine Princess!” But, prut! she was no more like a Princess than I am, for she was squat, and round-shouldered, and had hair of the color of tow.
Then the old goose-herd drove her geese away, and the goose-girl waited for the coming of the Prince.
Sure enough, after a while the Prince came with a fine dress, all of real silver and gold; but when he saw the goose-girl he beat his head with his knuckles, for he thought that it was the Princess, and that she was enchanted again.
Why did he not look through the ring of his magic key?
Perhaps for this, perhaps for that — one cannot be always wise.
“The Prince looks through the Magic Key.”
Then the Prince dressed the goose-girl in the fine dress of gold and silver, and took her home with him. Hui! how everybody stared and laughed when they saw what kind of a Princess it was that the Prince brought home with him! As for the poor old King, he rubbed his spectacles and looked and looked, for he thought that this was a strange sort of a wife for the Prince to make such a buzz about. However, he said nothing, for he thought to himself that perhaps she would grow prettier by-and-by.
So orders were given for a grand wedding on Thursday, and the old King asked all of the neighbors to come, and even those who lived at a distance, for this was to be a very grand wedding indeed.
But the old goose-herd told her daughter to mix a sleeping powder with the Prince’s wine at supper, for, if the real Princess were to come at all, she would come that night. So the goose-girl did as she was told, and the Prince drank the sleeping powder with his wine, and knew nothing of it.
That night the golden bird came flying, and sat in the linden tree just outside of the Prince’s chamber window. Then she clapped her wings and sang:
“I wept over you once,
I wept over you twice,
I wept over you three times.
In the ram’s skin I waited,
And out of the ram’s skin I flew.
Why are you sleeping,
Life of my life?”
But the Prince slept as sound as a dormouse, and when the dawn came and the cocks crew the golden bird was forced to fly away.
The next night the false Princess did as she had done before, and mixed a sleeping powder with the Prince’s cup of wine.
That night the golden bird came again, and perched in the linden tree outside of the Prince’s window, and sang:
“I wept over you once,
I wept over you twice,
I wept over you three times.
In the ram’s skin I waited,
And out of the ram’s skin I flew.
Why are you sleeping,
Life of my life?”
But once more the Prince slept through it all, and when morning had come the golden bird was forced to fly away.
Now it chanced that that night some of the folk of the King’s household heard the bird singing, and they told the Prince all about it. So when the third night came, and the false Princess gave the Prince the cup of wine with the sleeping powder in it, he threw the wine over his shoulder, and never touched so much as a drop of it.
That night the bird came for the third time, and sang as it had done before.
But this time the Prince was not sleeping. He jumped out of his bed and ran to the window, and there he saw the bird, and its feathers shone like fire because they were of pure gold. Then he got his magic key and looked through the ring of it, and whom should he see but his own Princess sitting in the linden tree.
Then the Prince called to her, “What shall I do to set you free from this enchantment?”
“Throw your knife over me,” said the Princess.
No sooner said than done. The Prince threw his knife over her, and there she stood in her own true shape. Then the Prince took her to the King, and when the King saw how pretty she was, he skipped and danced till his slippers flew about his ears.
The next morning the old King went to the false Princess, and said, “What should be done to one who would do thus and so?”
“The Old King Rejoices at His New Daughter-in-Law.”
To this the false Princess answered, as bold as brass, “Such a one should be thrown into a pit full of toads and snakes.”
“You have spoken for yourself,” said the King; and he would have done just so to her had not the true Princess begged for her so that she was sent back again to tend the geese, for that was what she was fit for.
Then they had the grandest wedding that ever was seen in all of the world. Everybody was asked, and there was enough for all to eat as much as they chose, and to take a little something home to the children beside. If I had been there I would have brought you something.
What is the meaning of all this?
Listen, I will tell you something.
Once there was a man, and he winnowed a whole
peck of chaff, and got only three good solid grains from
it, and yet he was glad to have so much.
Would you winnow a whole peck of chaff for only
three good grains? No? Then you will never know
all that is meant by this story.
A DISAPPOINTMENT
He
“I prithee, tell me wh’re you live?
Oh Maid, so sweet and rare!”
She
“I am ye miller’s daughter, sir,
And live just over th’re”
He
“Of all ye Maids I ever saw,
You are beyond compare.”
She
“Oh; Thank you, sir! Oh; thank you, sir!
Your words are very fair.”
He
“So I w’ld ask you something, now;
If I might only dare.”
She
“Now, you may ask me wh’t you please,
For anything I care.”
He
“Then will you marry me? For we.
W’ld make a goodly pair.”
She
“I thank you sir; your offer, it
Is most extremely rare.
But as I am already wed,
You’r late, sir, for ye Fair.”
At th’s ye Bachelor walked away,
And talked to himself of th’ Lass so gay —
“Her hair is very decidedly red;
And her eyes have somewhat of a cast in her head;
And her feet are large, and her hands are coarse;
And, without I’m mistaken, her voice is hoarse.
’Tis a bargain of wh’ch I am very well rid;
I am glad, on ye whole, I escaped as I did.”
Howard Pyle
YE SAD STORY CONCERNING ON INNOCENT LITTLE LAMB AND FOUR WICKED WOLVES
A little l
amb was gamboling,
Upon a pleasant day,
And four grey wolves came shambling,
And stopped to see it play
In the sun.
Said the lamb, “Perhaps I may
Charm these creatures with my play,
And they’ll let me go away,
When I’ve done.”
The wolves, they sat asmiling at
The playful thing, to see
How exceedingly beguiling that
Its pretty play could be.
See it hop!
But its strength began to wane,
Though it gamboled on in pain,
Till it finally was fain,
For to stop.
Oh! then there was a munching,
Of that tender little thing,
And a crunching and a scrunching,
As you’ld munch a chicken wing.
No avail
Was its cunning, merry play
For the only thing, they say,
That was left of it that day,
Was its tail.
So with me; when I am done,
And the critics have begun,
All they’ll leave me of my fun
‘Ll be the tale.
H Pyle
THE APPLE OF CONTENTMENT
There was a woman once, and she had three daughters. The first daughter squinted with both eyes, yet the woman loved her as she loved salt, for she herself squinted with both eyes. The second daughter had one shoulder higher than the other, and eyebrows as black as soot in the chimney, yet the woman loved her as well as she loved the other, for she herself had black eyebrows and one shoulder higher than the other. The youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as silk and the color of pure gold, but the woman loved her not at all, for, as I have said, she herself was neither pretty, nor had she hair of the color of pure gold. Why all this was so, even Hans Pfifendrummel cannot tell, though he has read many books and one over.
The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had been born ladies, both of them.
As for Christine — that was the name of the youngest girl — as for Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive the geese to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening, so that they might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat.
The first sister and the second sister had white bread (and butter beside) and as much fresh milk as they could drink; but Christine had to eat cheese-parings and bread-crusts, and had hardly enough of them to keep Goodman Hunger from whispering in her ear.
This was how the churn clacked in that house!
Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with her flock of geese, and in her hands she carried her knitting, at which she worked to save time. So she went along the dusty road until, by-and-by, she came to a place where a bridge crossed the brook, and what should she see there but a little red cap, with a silver bell at the point of it, hanging from the alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap that Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had never seen the like of it in all of her life before.
So she put it in her pocket, and then off she went with her geese again. But she had hardly gone two-score of paces when she heard a voice calling her, “Christine! Christine!”
She looked, and who should she see but a queer little gray man, with a great head as big as a cabbage and little legs as thin as young radishes.
“What do you want?” said Christine, when the little man had come to where she was.
Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could not go back home into the hill — that was where he belonged.
But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Yes, Christine would like to know that before she gave it back again.
“The little man asks far his cap.”
Well, the little hill-man was fishing by the brook over yonder when a puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he just hung it up to dry. That was all that there was about it; and now would Christine please give it to him?
Christine did not know how about that; perhaps she would and perhaps she would not. It was a nice, pretty little cap; what would the little underground man give her for it? that was the question.
Oh, the little man would give her five thalers for it, and gladly.
No; five thalers was not enough for such a pretty little cap — see, there was a silver bell hanging to it too.
Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain; he would give her a hundred thalers for it.
No; Christine did not care for money. What else would he give for this nice, dear little cap?
“See, Christine,” said the little man, “I will give you this for the cap”; and he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal.
“Yes, good; but what is that?” said Christine.
“That,” said the little man, “is a seed from the apple of contentment. Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple. Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody in the world can pluck it but you. It will always be meat and drink to you when you are hungry, and warm clothes to your back when you are cold. Moreover, as soon as you pluck it from the tree, another as good will grow in its place. Now, will you give me my hat?”
Oh yes; Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head, and — puff! — away he was gone, as suddenly as the light of a candle when you blow it out.
So Christine took the seed home with her, and planted it before the window of her room. The next morning when she looked out of the window she beheld a beautiful tree, and on the tree hung an apple that shone in the sun as though it were pure gold. Then she went to the tree and plucked the apple as easily as though it were a gooseberry, and as soon as she had plucked it another as good grew in its place. Being hungry she ate it, and thought that she had never eaten anything as good, for it tasted like pancake with honey and milk.
“Christine and the Apple”
By-and-by the oldest sister came out of the house and looked around, but when she saw the beautiful tree with the golden apple hanging from it you can guess how she stared.
Presently she began to long and long for the apple as she had never longed for anything in her life. “I will just pluck it,” said she, “and no one will be the wiser for it.” But that was easier said than done. She reached and reached, but she might as well have reached for the moon; she climbed and climbed, but she might as well have climbed for the sun — for either one would have been as easy to get as that which she wanted. At last she had to give up trying for it, and her temper was none the sweeter for that, you may be sure.
“Christine’s Mother and Sisters wish for the Apple.”
After a while came the second sister, and when she saw the golden apple she wanted it just as much as the first had done. But to want and to get are very different things, as she soon found, for she was no more able to get it than the other had been.
Last of all came the mother, and she also strove to pluck the apple. But it was no use. She had no more luck of her trying than her daughters; all that the three could do was to stand under the tree and look at the apple, and wish for it and wish for it.
They are not the only ones who have done the like, with the apple of contentment hanging just above them.
As for Christine, she had nothing to do but to pluck an apple whenever she wanted it. Was she hungry? there was the apple hanging in the tree for her. Was she thirsty? there was the apple. Cold? there was the apple. So you see, she was the happiest girl betwixt all the seven hills that stand at the ends of the earth; for nobody in the world can have more than contentment, and that was what the appl
e brought her.
II
One day a king came riding along the road, and all of his people with him. He looked up and saw the apple hanging in the tree, and a great desire came upon him to have a taste of it. So he called one of the servants to him, and told him to go and ask whether it could be bought for a potful of gold.
So the servant went to the house, and knocked on the door — rap! tap! tap!
“What do you want?” said the mother of the three sisters, coming to the door.
Oh, nothing much; only a king was out there in the road, and wanted to know if she would sell the apple yonder for a potful of gold.
Yes, the woman would do that. Just pay her the pot of gold and he might go and pluck it and welcome.
So the servant gave her the pot of gold, and then he tried to pluck the apple. First he reached for it, and then he climbed for it, and then he shook the limb.
But it was no use for him to try; he could no more get it — well — than I could if I had been in his place.
At last the servant had to go back to the King. The apple was there, he said, and the woman had sold it, but try and try as he would he could no more get it than he could get the little stars in the sky.
Then the King told the steward to go and get it for him; but the steward, though he was a tall man and a strong man, could no more pluck the apple than the servant.
“The King reaches for the Apple”
So he had to go back to the King with an empty fist. No; he could not gather it, either.
Then the King himself went. He knew that he could pluck it — of course he could! Well, he tried and tried; but nothing came of his trying, and he had to ride away at last without, having had so much as a smell of the apple.