Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 03 (14 page)

'I have,' said she, 'the unhappiness of loving a Prince who is
fickle, frivolous, proud, incapable of caring for anyone but
himself, who has been spoilt by flattery, and, to crown all, who
does not love me.'

'But,' cried Prince Featherhead, 'surely you cannot care for so
contemptible and worthless a creature as that.'

'Alas! but I do care,' answered the Princess, weeping.

'But where can his eyes be,' said the Prince, 'that your beauty
makes no impression upon him? As for me, since I have possessed
your portrait I have wandered over the whole world to find you,
and, now we have met, I see that you are ten times lovelier than I
could have imagined, and I would give all I own to win your love.'

'My portrait?' cried Celandine with sudden interest. 'Is it
possible that Prince Featherhead can have parted with it?'

'He would part with his life sooner, lovely Princess,' answered
he; 'I can assure you of that, for I am Prince Featherhead.'

At the same moment the Fairy of the Beech-Woods took away the
enchantment, and the happy Princess recognised her lover, now
truly hers, for the trials they had both undergone had so changed
and improved them that they were capable of a real love for each
other. You may imagine how perfectly happy they were, and how much
they had to hear and to tell. But at length it was time to go back
to the little house, and as they went along Celandine remembered
for the first time what a ragged old dress she was wearing, and
what an odd appearance she must present. But the Prince declared
that it became her vastly, and that he thought it most
picturesque. When they reached the house the old woman received
them very crossly.

'I declare,' said she, 'that it's perfectly true: wherever there
is a girl you may be sure that a young man will appear before
long! But don't imagine that I'm going to have you here—not a bit
of it, be off with you, my fine fellow!'

Prince Featherhead was inclined to be angry at this uncivil
reception, but he was really too happy to care much, so he only
demanded, on Celandine's behalf, that the old dame should give her
back her own attire, that she might go away suitably dressed.

This request roused her to fury, since she had counted upon the
Princess's fine robes to clothe her for the rest of her life, so
that it was some time before the Prince could make himself heard
to explain that he was willing to pay for them. The sight of a
handful of gold pieces somewhat mollified her, however, and after
making them both promise faithfully that on no consideration would
they ask for the gold back again, she took the Princess into the
house and grudgingly doled out to her just enough of her gay
attire to make her presentable, while the rest she pretended to
have lost. After this they found that they were very hungry, for
one cannot live on love, any more than on air, and then the old
woman's lamentations were louder than before. 'What!' she cried,
'feed people who were as happy as all that! Why, it was simply
ruinous!'

But as the Prince began to look angry, she, with many sighs and
mutterings, brought out a morsel of bread, a bowl of milk, and six
plums, with which the lovers were well content: for as long as
they could look at one another they really did not know what they
were eating. It seemed as if they would go on for ever with their
reminiscences, the Prince telling how he had wandered all over the
world from beauty to beauty, always to be disappointed when he
found that no one resembled the portrait; the Princess wondering
how it was he could have been so long with her and yet never have
recognised her, and over and over again pardoning him for his cold
and haughty behaviour to her.

'For,' she said, 'you see, Featherhead, I love you, and love makes
everything right! But we cannot stay here,' she added; 'what are
we to do?'

The Prince thought they had better find their way to the Fairy of
the Beech-Woods and put themselves once more under her protection,
and they had hardly agreed upon this course when two little
chariots wreathed with jasmine and honeysuckle suddenly appeared,
and, stepping into them, they were whirled away to the Leafy
Palace. Just before they lost sight of the little house they heard
loud cries and lamentations from the miserly old dame, and,
looking round, perceived that the beautiful cow was vanishing in
spite of her frantic efforts to hold it fast. And they afterwards
heard that she spent the rest of her life in trying to put the
handful of gold the Prince had thrown to her into her money-bag.
For the Fairy, as a punishment for her avarice, caused it to slip
out again as fast as she dropped it in.

The Fairy of the Beech-Woods ran to welcome the Prince and
Princess with open arms, only too delighted to find them so much
improved that she could, with a clear conscience, begin to spoil
them again. Very soon the Fairy Saradine also arrived, bringing
the King and Queen with her. Princess Celandine implored her
pardon, which she graciously gave; indeed the Princess was so
charming she could refuse her nothing. She also restored to her
the Summer Islands, and promised her protection in all things. The
Fairy of the Beech-Woods then informed the King and Queen that
their subjects had chased King Bruin from the throne, and were
waiting to welcome them back again; but they at once abdicated in
favour of Prince Featherhead, declaring that nothing could induce
them to forsake their peaceful life, and the Fairies undertook to
see the Prince and Princess established in their beautiful
kingdoms. Their marriage took place the next day, and they lived
happily ever afterwards, for Celandine was never vain and
Featherhead was never fickle any more.

Le Prince Muguet et la Princesse Zaza.

There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children
on a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the
little pigs was called Browny, the second Whitey, and the youngest
and best looking Blacky. Now Browny was a very dirty little pig,
and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing
about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the
mud in the farmyard got soft, and thick, and slab. Then he would
steal away from his mother's side, and finding the muddiest place
in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself.
His mother often found fault with him for this, and would shake
her head sadly and say: 'Ah, Browny! some day you will be sorry
that you did not obey your old mother.' But no words of advice or
warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.

Whitey was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was
always thinking of her food, and looking forward to her dinner;
and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the
yard, she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with
excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she
jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get
the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded
her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would
suffer for being so greedy and grabbing.

Blacky was a good, nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He
had nice dainty ways (for a pig), and his skin was always as
smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than
Browny and Whitey, and his mother's heart used to swell with pride
when she heard the farmer's friends say to each other that some
day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.

Now the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near
her end. One day she called the three little pigs round her and
said:

'My children, I feel that I am growing odd and weak, and that I
shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house
for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so
happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have
to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to
have?'

'A house of mud,' replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet
puddle in the corner of the yard.

'And you, Whitey?' said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for
she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.

'A house of cabbage,' answered Whitey, with a mouth full, and
scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was
grubbing for some potato-parings.

'Foolish, foolish child!' said the mother pig, looking quite
distressed. 'And you, Blacky?' turning to her youngest son, 'what
sort of a house shall I order for you?'

'A house of brick, please mother, as it will be warm in winter,
and cool in summer, and safe all the year round.'

'That is a sensible little pig,' replied his mother, looking
fondly at him. 'I will see that the three houses are got ready at
once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of
our old enemy the fox. When he hears that I am dead, he is sure to
try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very
sly and will no doubt disguise himself, and pretend to be a
friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses
on any pretext whatever.'

And the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a
great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales.
A short time afterwards the old pig died, and the little pigs went
to live in their own houses.

Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the
clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But
that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible,
rolling about all day and making himself in such a mess. One day,
as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at
his door, and a gentle voice said:

'May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new
house.'

'Who are you?' said Browny, starting up in great fright, for
though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned
voice, and he feared it was the fox.

'I am a friend come to call on you,' answered the voice.

'No, no,' replied Browny, 'I don't believe you are a friend. You
are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won't let
you in.'

'Oho! is that the way you answer me?' said the fox, speaking very
roughly in his natural voice. 'We shall soon see who is master
here,' and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole
in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it,
and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and
trotted off with him to his den.

The next day, as Whitey was munching a few leaves of cabbage out
of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door,
determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He
began speaking to her in the same feigned gentle voice in which he
had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he
said:

'I am a friend come to visit you, and to have some of your good
cabbage for my dinner.'

'Please don't touch it,' cried Whitey in great distress. 'The
cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will
make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a
cold. Do go away; I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked
enemy the fox.' And poor Whitey began to whine and to whimper, and
to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig, and had
chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it
was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way
through the cabbage walls, and had caught the trembling, shivering
Whitey, and carried her off to his den.

The next day the fox started off for Blacky's house, because he
had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs
together in his den, and then kill them, and invite all his
friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house, he found
that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he
began, 'Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of
some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.'

'No, no, Mister Fox,' replied Blacky, 'I am not going to open my
door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor
Browny and Whitey, but you are not going to get me.'

At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force
against the wall, and tried to knock it down. But it was too
strong and well-built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the
bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to
give it up, and limp away with his fore-paws all bleeding and
sore.

'Never mind!' he cried angrily as he went off, 'I'll catch you
another day, see if I don't, and won't I grind your bones to
powder when I have got you in my den!' and he snarled fiercely and
showed his teeth.

Next day Blacky had to go into the neighbouring town to do some
marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it
slung over his shoulder, he heard a sound of steps stealthily
creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear,
and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top
of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot
of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the
kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay
quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his fore-leg he
managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a
little kick from the inside he started the kettle off, and down
the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that
he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a
great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn
away, when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house,
and in a moment later Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with the
kettle into the house, when he barred and bolted the door, and put
the shutter up over the window.