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A king had a
daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but
so proud and haughty withal that no suitor was good enough for her.
She sent away one after the other, and ridiculed them as well.
Once the king
made a great feast and invited thereto, from far and near, all the young
men likely to marry. They were all marshalled in a row according
to their rank and standing. First came the kings, then the grand-dukes,
then the princes, the earls, the barons, and the gentry. Then the
king's daughter was led through the ranks, but to each one she had some
objection to make. One was too fat, the wine-barrel, she said.
Another was too tall, long and thin has little in. The third was
too short, short and thick is never quick. The fourth was too pale,
as pale as death. The fifth too red, a fighting cock. The sixth was
not straight enough, a green log dried behind the stove.
So she had something
to say against each one, but she made herself especially merry over a good
king who stood quite high up in the row, and whose chin had grown a little
crooked. "Look," she cried and laughed, "he has a chin like a thrush's
beak". And from that time he got the name of king thrushbeard.
But the old king,
when he saw that his daugher did nothing but mock the people, and despised
all the suitors who were gathered there, was very angry, and swore that
she should have for her husband the very first beggar that came to his
doors.
A few days afterwards
a fiddler came and sang beneath the windows, trying to earn a few pennies.
When the king heard him he said, "let him come up." So the fiddler
came in, in his dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before the king and his
daughter, and when he had ended he asked for a trifling gift. The
king said," your song has pleased me so well that I will give you my daughter
there, to wife."
The king's daughter
shuddered, but the king said, "I have taken an oath to give you to the
very first beggar-man and I will keep it." All she could say was
in vain. The priest was brought, and she had to let herself be wedded
to the fiddler on the spot. When that was done the king said, "now
it is not proper for you, a beggar-woman, to stay any longer in my palace,
you may just go away with your husband."
The beggar-man
led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to walk away on foot with
him. When they came to a large forest she asked, "to whom does that
beautiful forest belong." " It belongs to king thrushbeard. If you
had taken him, it would have been yours." "Ah, unhappy girl that
I am, if I had but taken king thrushbeard."
Afterwards they
came to a meadow, and she asked again, to whom does this beautiful green
meadow belong. It belongs to king thrushbeard. If you had taken
him, it would have been yours. Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had
but taken king thrushbeard.
Then they came
to a large town, and she asked again, "to whom does this fine large town
belong." " It belongs to king thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would
have been yours." " Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken king
thrushbeard." "It does not please me, said the fiddler, to hear you always
wishing for another husband. Am I not good enough for you."
At last they came
to a very little hut, and she said, "oh goodness. What a small house.
To whom does this miserable, tiny hovel belong." The fiddler answered,
"that is my house and yours, where we shall live together."
She had to stoop
in order to go in at the low door. "Where are the servants, said
the king's daughter." "What servants, answered the beggar-man. You
must yourself do what you wish to have done. Just make a fire at once,
and set on water to cook my supper, I am quite tired." But the king's
daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar-man
had to lend a hand himself to get anything fairly done. When they
had finished their scanty meal they went to bed. But he forced her
to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after the house.
For a few days
they lived in this way as well as might be, and came to the end of all
their provisions. Then the man said, "wife, we cannot go on any longer
eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You must make baskets."
He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then she began
to make baskets, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands.
"I see that this
will not do," said the man. "You had better spin, perhaps you can
do that better." She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard thread
soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood ran down. "See," said
the man, "you are fit for no sort of work. I have made a bad bargain with
you. Now I will try to make a business with pots and earthenware.
You must sit in the market-place and sell the ware." "Alas," thought
she, "if any of the people from my father's kingdom come to the market
and see me sitting there, selling, how they will mock me." But it
was of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to die of hunger. For
the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad to buy the
woman's wares because she was good-looking, and they paid her what she
asked. Many even gave her the money and left the pots with her as
well. So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted,
then the husband bought a lot of new crockery. With this she sat
down at the corner of the market-place, and set it out round about her
ready for sale. But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along,
and he rode right amongst the pots so that they were all broken into a
thousand bits. She began to weep, and did now know what to do for
fear. "Alas, what will happen to me," cried she. "What will
my husband say to this." She ran home and told him of the misfortune.
Who would seat herself at a corner of the market-place with crockery, said
the man. "Leave off crying, I see very well that you cannot do any
ordinary work, so I have been to our king's palace and have asked whether
they cannot find a place for a kitchen-maid, and they have promised me
to take you. In that way you will get your food for nothing."
The king's daughter
was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at the cook's beck and call, and
do the dirtiest work. In both her pockets she fastened a little jar,
in which she took home her share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.
It happened that
the wedding of the king's eldest son was to be celebrated, so the poor
woman went up and placed herself by the door of the hall to look on.
When all the candles were lit, and people, each more beautiful than the
other, entered, and all was full of pomp and splendor, she thought of her
lot with a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had humbled
her and brought her to so great poverty.
The smell of the
delicious dishes which were being taken in and out reached her, and now
and then the servants threw her a few morsels of them. These she
put in her jars to take home.
All at once the
king's son entered, clothed in velvet and silk, with gold chains about
his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman standing by the door
he seized her by the hand, and would have danced with her. But she
refused and shrank with fear, for she saw that it was king thrushbeard,
her suitor whom she had driven away with scorn. Her struggles were
of no avail, he drew her into the hall. But the string by which her
pockets were hung broke, the pots fell down, the soup ran out, and the
scraps were scattered all about. And when the people saw it, there
arose general laughter and derision, and she was so ashamed that she would
rather have been a thousand fathoms below the ground. She sprang
to the door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man caught her
and brought her back. And when she looked at him it was king thrushbeard
again. He said to her kindly, "do not be afraid, I and the fiddler
who has been living with you in that wretched hovel are one. For
love of you I disguised myself so. And I also was the hussar who
rode through your crockery. This was all done to humble your proud spirit,
and to punish you for the insolence with which you mocked me."
Then she wept
bitterly and said, "I have done great wrong, and am not worthy to be your
wife." " But" he said, be comforted, "the evil days are past. Now
we will celebrate our wedding." Then the maids-in-waiting came and put
on her the most splendid clothing, and her father and his whole court came
and wished her happiness in her marriage with king thrushbeard, and the
joy now began in earnest. I wish you and I had been there too.
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