King Thrushbeard

Once upon a time, there was a king who had a daughter. She was more beautiful than anyone could imagine, but she was also terribly proud and conceited. No suitor was good enough for her. She sent one after another away, and she made fun of them too.

One day, the king held a great feast. He invited all the young men who might want to marry his daughter, from far and wide. They were all lined up in a row according to their rank: first came the kings, then the grand dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons, and the gentlemen.

Then the princess was led through the rows, but she found something wrong with every one. One was too fat. "Like a wine barrel!" she said. Another was too tall. "Long and thin has little in." A third was too short. "Short and thick is never quick." A fourth was too pale.

"Pale as death." A fifth was too red. "Like a fighting rooster." A sixth was not straight enough. "A green log dried behind the stove."

She had something bad to say about every one, but she made special fun of a good king who stood high up in the row, whose chin was a little crooked. "Well," she cried out laughing, "he has a chin like a thrush's beak!" From that time on, he was called King Thrushbeard.

But the old king saw that his daughter did nothing but mock everyone and despised all the suitors. He became very angry and swore that she would marry the very first beggar who came to his door.

A few days later, a fiddler came and sang under the windows, hoping to earn a small coin. When the king heard him, he said, "Let him come up." So the fiddler came in, wearing dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before the king and his daughter. When he finished, he asked for a small gift. The king said, "Your song pleased me so much that I will give you my daughter as your wife."

The princess shuddered, but the king said, "I swore an oath to give you to the very first beggar, and I will keep it." She could argue in vain. The priest was brought, and she had to marry the fiddler right away. 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 go away with your husband."

The beggar man led her out by the hand, and she had to walk away with him on foot. When they came to a large forest, she asked, "To whom does this beautiful forest belong?" "It belongs to King Thrushbeard," he said. "If you had married him, it would have been yours." "Oh, unhappy girl that I am!" she said. "If only I had married King Thrushbeard!"

Then they came to a meadow, and she asked again, "To whom does this beautiful green meadow belong?" "It belongs to King Thrushbeard," he said. "If you had married him, it would have been yours." "Oh, unhappy girl that I am! If only I had married 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," he said. "If you had married him, it would have been yours." "Oh, unhappy girl that I am! If only I had married 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 small hut. She said, "Oh goodness! What a small house! To whom does this miserable, mean little house belong?" The fiddler answered, "That is my house and yours, where we shall live together."

She had to stoop to go in the low door. "Where are the servants?" asked the princess. "What servants?" answered the beggar man. "You must do everything yourself. Make a fire at once and put water on to cook my supper. I am very tired." But the princess knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar man had to help her himself to get anything done. When they finished their meager meal, they went to bed. But early in the morning, he made her get up to take care of the house.

For a few days they lived as well as they could, but then they ran out of food. Then the man said, "Wife, we cannot go on eating and drinking and earning nothing. You can weave baskets." He went out, cut some willow branches, and brought them home. She began to weave, but the tough willows hurt her delicate hands.

"I see this won't do," said the man. "You had better spin. Maybe you can do that better." She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so the blood ran down.

"You see," said the man, "you are not fit for any kind of work. I made a bad bargain with you. Now I will try to start a business with pots and earthenware. You must sit in the marketplace and sell the dishes." "Oh," she thought, "if any people from my father's kingdom come to the market and see me sitting there selling, how they will mock me!" But it was no use; she had to give in, unless she wanted to die of hunger.

For the first time she did well, because people liked to buy from the pretty woman, and they paid what she asked. Many even gave her the money and left the pots with her. So they lived on what she earned.

When the money ran out, the husband bought a lot of new crockery. She sat down at a corner of the marketplace and set out the pots around her, ready to sell. But suddenly a drunken soldier came galloping along and rode right into the pots, smashing them into a thousand pieces.

She began to cry and did not know what to do. "Alas!" she cried. "What will happen to me? What will my husband say?"

She ran home and told him about the accident. "Who would sit at a corner of the marketplace with crockery?" said the man. "Stop crying. I see very well that you cannot do any ordinary work. So I have been to our king's palace and asked if they could find a place for a kitchen maid. They promised to take you. That way you will get your food for nothing."

The princess became a kitchen maid and had to do whatever the cook ordered, even the dirtiest work. She fastened two little jars in her pockets and brought home her share of the leftovers. That was what they lived on.

Now it happened that the king's eldest son was going to be married. So the poor woman went up and stood by the door of the great hall to watch. When all the candles were lit and people, each more beautiful than the next, entered, and everything was full of pomp and splendor, she thought of her fate with a sad heart. She cursed her pride and haughtiness, which had brought her to such poverty.

The smell of the delicious dishes being taken in and out reached her. Now and then the servants threw her a few scraps, which she put into her jars to take home.

All at once, the king's son entered, dressed in velvet and silk, with golden chains around his neck. When he saw the beautiful woman at the door, he took her by the hand and wanted to dance with her.

But she refused and shrank back in fear, for she saw that it was King Thrushbeard, the suitor she had driven away with scorn. She could not get away; he pulled her into the hall.

But the string that held her pockets broke, the jars fell, the soup spilled out, and the scraps scattered all around. When the people saw this, they all laughed and made fun of her. She was so ashamed that she would rather have been a thousand fathoms underground.

She ran to the door and tried to escape, but on the stairs a man caught her and brought her back. When she looked at him, it was King Thrushbeard again. He said to her kindly, "Do not be afraid.

I am the same as the fiddler who lived with you in that wretched hut. For love of you I disguised myself. I was also the soldier who rode through your pots. All this was done to humble your proud spirit and to punish you for the mean way you mocked me."

Then she wept bitterly and said, "I have done great wrong, and I am not worthy to be your wife." But he said, "Be comforted. The bad days are over. Now we will celebrate our wedding." Then the maids-in-waiting came and dressed her in the most splendid clothes. Her father and his whole court came and wished her happiness in her marriage to King Thrushbeard. Then the joy began in earnest. I wish you and I had been there too.