Once upon a time long ago - so long,
indeed, that even the very oldest people now alive could not remember it-
there lived a King and Queen in a beautiful palace, a great white marble
palace, with wide halls and high towers, and a golden roof that flashed in
the sun.
And all round the palace, for miles and miles, there were lovely gardens
and pleasure-grounds, with terraces and green lawns, and ancient trees where
the birds would sit and sing all day and all night long, and more flowers
than you could ever think of if you were to think a whole summer through.
There were peacocks and birds of paradise on the broad lawns, and pretty
slender brown deer in the shady glades, and gold and silver fishes in the
ponds and fountains, and great red and yellow fruits ripened in the
orchards.
There was everything there that heart could wish - except just one, and
that was the one thing in all the world that this King and Queen wanted to
make them perfectly happy. For there was no little child to run and play
about the sunny gardens and pick the flowers, and pet the birds and beasts
that wandered there. And this would often make them very sad.
But at last, after many years, they had their wish, and a little baby
daughter was born to them - a tiny child with a face like a blush rosebud,
eyes like violets, and a little red mouth like the pimpernel flowers that
grow in the cornfields by the wayside in summer-time.
Now, you can easily think how glad this King and Queen were, and what
great rejoicings were made over all the country.
Bonfires as big as haystacks were kept burning all night, fat oxen were
roasted whole in the market-place of every town, the church-bells were rung
and rung again until the ringers were out of breath and their arms were
aching, and every little child in the kingdom was given a beautiful present
for the baby Princess's sake.
In the palace, of course, all was bustle and hurry to make ready for the
christening-feast; the maids were busy putting flowers all about the halls
and chambers, and sprinkling the shining floors with sweet-smelling leaves
and petals.
For the most important guests invited to this christening were seven very
powerful fairies, and you know, I am sure, how particular fairies are about
what they eat and drink. Not that they are greedy; but they are used to such
delicate food that even the very best of ours seems strange to them. So the
Queen was very anxious that they should be pleased; for they had been asked
to be godmothers to the baby Princess, and she wanted them to be in a good
humor so that they should be kind to her little one.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and the roses on the palace terrace
were nodding their heads sleepily in the warm breeze, when the fairies'
chariots came into sight, sailing through the blue sky like a flight of
bright-winged butterflies.
They were all good fairies, and had known the King and Queen all their
lives long, and as they had not seen them for some time there was a great
deal of talk about and much news to tell. And, dear me! how pleased they
were with the baby! They all agreed that she was the prettiest little
darling they had ever seen - almost as pretty as a real fairy baby - and
that was a compliment indeed, I can tell you.
And when they went in to the great banqueting-hall and sat down to table,
they were even more delighted than at first. for each one of them there was
a set of six golden dinner things - knife, spoon, fork, cup, dish, and plate
- made on purpose as a present for each, and all different. One was set with
pearls, another with diamonds, the third with rubies, the fourth with opals,
the fifth with amethysts, the sixth with emeralds, the seventh with
sapphires; and nobody could tell with was the most beautiful.
They were just going to begin, and everybody was as happy as happy could
be, when, all of a sudden, there was a clashing of brazen claws and a
rushing of wings, and something like a black cloud seemed to pass before the
tall windows and darken all the room, so that the guests could hardly see
their plates. Then the great doors burst open with a terrible bang, and an
old fairy in a long trailing black gown, with her face almost hidden in a
black hood, jumped out of a black chariot drawn by fierce griffins, and
stalked up to the table.
The King turned pale, and the Queen nearly fainted away, for this was the
spiteful fairy Tormentilla, who live all alone, an immense distance away
from everywhere and everyone, in a dismal black stone castle in the middle
of a desert. The poor Queen had been so happy and so busy that she had
forgotten all about her, and never sent her an invitation.
However, they all tried to make the best of it, and another chair was
brought, and another place laid for Tormentilla; and both the King and Queen
told her over and over again how very, very sorry they were not to have
asked her.
It was all in vain. Nothing could please her; she would eat and drink
nothing, and she sat, scowling and looking angrily at the other fairies'
jeweled cups and dishes, until the feast was over, and it was time to give
the presents.
Then they all went into the great tapestried room where the tiny Princess
lay sleeping in her mother-o'-pearl cradle, and the seven fairies began to
say what they would each give her.
The first stepped forward and said: "She shall always be as good as
gold"; the second: "She shall be the cleverest Princess in the world"; the
third: "She shall be the most beautiful;" the fourth: "She shall be the
happiest"; the fifth: "She shall have the sweetest voice that was ever
heard"; the sixth: "Everyone shall love her." And then the wicked old cross
fairy strode over to the cradle with long quick steps, and said, shaking her
black crooked stick a the King and Queen: "And I say that she shall prick
her hand with a spindle and die of the wound!"
At this the Queen fell on her knees and begged and prayed Tormentilla to
call back her cruel words; but suddenly the seventh fairy, the youngest of
all, who knew Tormentilla well, and had hidden herself behind the curtains
for fear that some such thing might happen, came out and said:
"Do not cry so, dear Queen; I cannot quite undo my cousin's wicked
enchantment, but I can promise you that your daughter shall not die, but
only fall asleep for a hundred years. And, when these are past and gone, a
Prince shall come and awaken her with a kiss."
So the King and Queen dried their tears and thanked the kind fairy
Heartsease for her goodness; and all the fairies went back to their homes,
and things went on much as usual in the palace. But you can imagine how
careful the Queen was of her little girl; and the King made a law that every
spindle in the country must be destroyed, and that no more should be made,
and that anyone who had a spindle should be heavily punished, if not
executed at once.
Well, the years went by happily enough until the Princess Miranda was
almost eighteen years old, and all that the six fairies had promised came
true, for she was the best and the prettiest and the cleverest Princess in
all the world, and everybody loved her. And, indeed, by this time
Tormentilla's spiteful words were almost forgotten.
"Poor old thing," the Queen would sometimes say, "she was so angry at
having been left out that she did not know what she was saying. Of course,
she did not really mean it."
Now, the King and Queen had to go away for a few days to a great
entertainment that one of their richest nobles was giving at his country
house; and, as the Princess did not wish to go, they left her behind with
her ladies-in-waiting in the beautiful old palace. For the first two days
she amused herself very well, but on the third she missed her father and
mother so much that, to pass the time till they came back, she began
exploring all the old lumber-rooms and out-of-the-way attics in the palace,
and laughing at the dusty furniture and queer curiosities she found
there.
At last she found herself at the top of a narrow winding stairway in a
tall turret that seemed even older than all the rest of the palace. And when
she lifted the latch of the door in front of her she saw a little low
chamber with curiously painted walls, and there sat a little old, old woman
in a high white cap, spinning at a wheel.
For some time she stood at the door, watching the old woman curiously;
she could not imagine what she was doing, for the Princess had never seen a
spinning-wheel in her life before, because, as I told you, the King had
ordered them all to be destroyed.
Now, it happened that the poor old woman who lived in this tower had
never heard the King's command, for she was so deaf that if you shouted
until you were hoarse she would never have been able to understand you.
"What pretty work you are doing there, Goody? And why does that wheel go
whirr, whirr, whirr?" said the Princess. The old woman neither answered nor
looked up, for, of course, she did not hear.
So the Princess stepped into the room and laid her hand upon the old
woman's shoulder.
Goody started then, looked up, and rubbed her eyes.
"Deary, deary me!" cried she, in a high, cracked voice, "And who may you
be, my pretty darling?"
"I'm the Princess Miranda," screamed the maiden in her ear, but the old
woman only shook her head - she could hear nothing.
Then the Princess pointed to the spindle, and made the old woman
understand that she wanted to try if she could work it.
So Goody nodded, and laughed, and got up from her seat, and the Princess
sat down and took the spindle in her hand. But no sooner did she touch it
than she pricked the palm of her hand with the point, and sank down in a
swoon.
Immediately a deep silence fell on all around. The little bird that only
a moment before had been singing so sweetly upon the window-sill hushed his
song. The distant hum of voices from the courtyard beneath ceased; even
Goody stopped short in the directions she was giving the Princess, and
neither moved hand nor foot towards the poor little maid, and all because
she had fallen fast asleep as she stood.
Below in the castle it was just the same. The King and Queen, who had
that moment returned from their journey and were inquiring for their
daughter, fell asleep before the lady-in-waiting could answer them, and as
to the lady herself she had begun to snore - in a ladylike manner, of course
- before you could have winked your eye.
The soldiers and men-at-arms slumbered as they stood. The page-boy fell
asleep with his mouth wide open, and a fly that had just been going to
settle on his nose fell asleep too in mid-air.
Although the sun had been shining brightly when the Princess took the
spindle in her hand, no sooner did she prick herself with the point than
deep shadows darkened the sunny rooms and gardens.
It was just as though night had overtaken them, but there was no one in
or near the palace to heed whether it were dark or light.
This suddenly darkness had been caused by a magic wood which had sprung
up all around the palace and its grounds. It was at least half a mile thick,
and was composed of thorns and prickly plants, through which it seemed
impossible for anyone to penetrate. It was so thick and high that it hid
even the top-most towers of the enchanted castle, and no one outside could
have dreamed that such a castle lay behind it.
Well, and so the years went on, and on, and on, until a hundred years had
passed, and the palace and the story of it were all but forgotten. And it
happened that a King's son from a neighboring country came hunting that way
with his men, and horses, and dogs. And in the excitement of the chase he
rode on and on until he became separated from his servants and attendants,
and found himself in a part of the country where he had never been before.
In vain he tried to retrace his steps: he only seemed to wander farther away
in the wrong direction.
Presently he came to a woodcutter's cottage, and dismounted to ask his
way. An old, old man lived in this hut, and after he had directed the Prince
as to the best way back, the young man pointed to a thick wood ahead, and
asked what lay beyond it. Then the old man told him that there was a legend
that beyond the wood was an enchanted palace where a beautiful Princess had
laid sleeping for a hundred years, and whom a Prince was to awaken with a
kiss.
Directly the Prince Florimond heard this, nothing would serve but he must
go there and see for himself if the tale were true. So he rode and he rode
until he came to the edge of the wood, and there he got off his horse and
began to push his way through the thorny thicket. It was hard work indeed,
for the briars were so strong and so sharp that you would never believe that
anyone could get past them, and they closed up behind him as he went.
But he was strong and brave, and after a time the way became easier,
until at last he came to the palace.
There everyone was sleeping - the sentinels and soldiers in the
court-yard, the cooks in the kitchen, and pages and lords-and
ladies-in-waiting in the corridors and chambers; and, in the great
throne-room the King and Queen on their golden and ivory thrones.
Prince Florimond passed on, wondering more and more, till he came at
length to the narrow staircase which led to the little tower in which the
Princess had fallen asleep. He mounted this, and then came the greatest
wonder of all - the beautiful sleeping lady, in her glistening white robes.
She was so beautiful that to see her almost took away his breath; and,
falling on his knees, he bent to kiss her cheek. And as he kissed her, she
opened her lovely blue yes and said, smiling: "Oh! Prince, have you come at
last? I have had such pleasant dreams."
Then she sat up laughing and rubbing her eyes, and gave him her hand, and
they went hand in hand together down the stairs and along the corridors,
till they came to the throne-room. And there were the King and Queen rubbing
their eyes too, and they kissed their daughter and welcomed the Prince most
gladly.
And, all at the same time, the whole palace was awake. Cocks crowed, dogs
barked, the cats began to mew, the spits to turn, the clocks to strike, the
soldiers presented arms, the heralds blew their trumpets, the head cook
boxed a little scullion's ears, the butler went on drinking his
half-finished tankard of wine, the first lady-in-waiting finished winding
her skein of silk.
Everything, in short, went on exactly as though the spell had lasted a
hundred seconds instead of years. To be sure, Princess Miranda's pretty
white dress was just such a one as Prince Florimond's great-grandmother
might have worn. But that gave them something to laugh at.
And now my story is done, for I need hardly tell you that the Prince and
Princess were married amid great rejoicings, and lived happily ever after;
and that the seven fairy godmothers danced at the wedding. So all ended
well, and what more could anyone wish?