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LET’S DISCUSS THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Empathy, Kindness

1. The villagers in this story were frightened of the bear. But Breeze was not. Why wasn’t she frightened of the bear?

2. In this story, Breeze imagines how the bear must feel. This is called “empathy”. How do you think having empathy might help us live together?

Independent Thinking

1. Do you think it is always a good idea to trust wild animals? Why or why not?

2. Why was Breeze not frightened of this particular bear?

3. Do you think she took enough care for her safety when she approached the bear? Why or why not?

Credits:

Bedtime Story written by Lale Sanem Şekercioğlu

Illustrated by Halina Prakapenka

Music Video by “Morning” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Thinking Music” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Casa Bossa Nova” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Hidden Agenda” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Dreamy Flashback” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Goblin Tinker Soldier Spy” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Scheming Weasel (slower version)” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Fireflies and Stardust” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Bushwick Tarantella” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

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LET’S DISCUSS THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Self-Confidence

1. When the people laugh at Princess Donabella Petronella Rosebud, does it hurt her? Should she mind? Why or why not?

2. Do you think Princess Donabella Petronella Rosebud was right to love her dress, even when nobody else could see it? Why or why not?

Bedtime Story written by Andrea Kaczmarek

Illustrated by Tanja Tomusilovic

Edited by Jade Maitre

Music Video by “Fluffing a Duck” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Sneaky Snitch” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Magistar” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Mighty Like Us” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Pixelland” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License, http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0

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LET’S DISCUSS THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Manners

1. Do you think the Big Bad Wolf has good manners in this story? Why or why not?

2. Do you think Lily has good manners? Why or why not?

3. Do you think the Big Bad Wolf will be invited to another party with Lily and Grandma? Why or why not?

Bedtime Story written by Andrea Kaczmarek

Illustrated by Tanja Tomušilović

Music Video by “Hidden Agenda” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Quirky Dog” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Meanwhile in Bavaria” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Happy Happy Game Show” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Townie Loop” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License, http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

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LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Independence, Courage, Independent Thinking, Empathy

1. When Princess Susie decides that she wants a baby brother, what does she do? What do you think this story might say about how to pursue the things we would really like?

2. Princess Susie enters the dark cave by herself. Do you think she was the right person to go inside the cave? Why or why not?

3. Why do you think the Tiger liked to be hugged by Susie?

Bedtime Story for Kids written by Templeton Moss

Illustrated by Nick Care

Book design by Jade Maitre

Music Video by “Midnight Tale” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Achaidh Cheide” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Still Pickin” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Moorland” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Angevin B” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Angevin” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Thatched Villagers” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Fiddles McGinty” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

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LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Love

1. Why do you think the Rose preferred to be a daisy than to leave the Bee she loved?

2. The story shows how the Rose preferred to be happy. How does loving and being loved feel? Do you think it always makes us happy? How?

2. What does Love feel like to you?

Bedtime Story for Kids written by Templeton Moss

Illustrated by Poornima Dolamullage

Book design by Jade Maitre

Music video by “Almost New” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Angel Share” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Fireflies and Stardust” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Arcadia” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Midsummer Sky” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License, http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

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LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Independent Thinking, Fairness, Conflict Resolution

1. Do you think the villagers were right to not give the poor families fruit, when they had said they would? Why or why not?

2. Do you think the Pied Piper was right to take their children away when they didn’t? Why or why not?

3. What do you think you would have done if you were a villager in Hamelin?

4. What do you think you would have done if you were the Pied Piper?

Feel-Good Fairy Tale for Kids written by Jade Maitre

Illustrated by Christopher-James Bolognese-Warrington

Book design by Jade Maitre

Music Video by “Devonshire Waltz Allegretto” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Aquarium” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Krampus Workshop” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Adventures in Adventureland” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Galway” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

About the Illustrator:

Hi ! My name is Christopher-James Robert Bolognese-Warrington and I am an Illustrator and Graphic Designer working in the greater Philadelphia area.

Some things I enjoy: comic books, cinema, gardening, daydreaming, soft pretzels, and of course spending time with my wife and our dog Dobby!

Things I do not care for: coffee, getting splinters, chewing gum, eating red meat & pulp in my orange juice.

You can follow more of my work at Instagram and my website:

The post The Pied Piper… and BUTTERFLIES! first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who loved each other dearly, and would have been perfectly happy if they had only had a little son or daughter to play with. They never talked about it, and always pretended that there was nothing in the world to wish for; but, sometimes when they looked at other people’s children, their faces grew sad, and their courtiers and attendants knew the reason why.

One day the queen was sitting alone by the side of a waterfall which sprung from some rocks in the large park adjoining the castle. She was feeling more than usually miserable, and had sent away her ladies so that no one might witness her grief. Suddenly she heard a rustling movement in the pool below the waterfall, and, on glancing up, she saw a large crab climbing on to a stone beside her.

‘Great queen,’ said the crab, ‘I am here to tell you that the desire of your heart will soon be granted. But first you must permit me to lead you to the palace of the fairies, which, though hard by, has never been seen by mortal eyes because of the thick clouds that surround it. When there you will know more; that is, if you will trust yourself to me.’

The queen had never before heard an animal speak, and was struck dumb with surprise. However, she was so enchanted at the words of the crab that she smiled sweetly and held out her hand; it was taken, not by the crab, which had stood there only a moment before, but by a little old woman smartly dressed in white and crimson with green ribbons in her grey hair. And, wonderful to say, not a drop of water fell from her clothes.

The old woman ran lightly down a path along which the queen had been a hundred times before, but it seemed so different she could hardly believe it was the same. Instead of having to push her way through nettles and brambles, roses and jasmine hung about her head, while under her feet the ground was sweet with violets. The orange trees were so tall and thick that, even at mid-day, the sun was never too hot, and at the end of the path was a glimmer of something so dazzling that the queen had to shade her eyes, and peep at it only between her fingers.

‘What can it be?’ she asked, turning to her guide; who answered:

‘Oh, that is the fairies’ palace, and here are some of them coming to meet us.’

As she spoke the gates swung back and six fairies approached, each bearing in her hand a flower made of precious stones, but so like a real one that it was only by touching you could tell the difference.

‘Madam,’ they said, ‘we know not how to thank you for this mark of your confidence, but have the happiness to tell you that in a short time you will have a little daughter.’

The queen was so enchanted at this news that she nearly fainted with joy; but when she was able to speak, she poured out all her gratitude to the fairies for their promised gift.

‘And now,’ she said, ‘I ought not to stay any longer, for my husband will think that I have run away, or that some evil beast has devoured me.’

In a little while it happened just as the fairies had foretold, and a baby girl was born in the palace. Of course both the king and queen were delighted, and the child was called Desiree, which means ‘desired,’ for she had been ‘desired’ for five years before her birth.

At first the queen could think of nothing but her new plaything, but then she remembered the fairies who had sent it to her. Bidding her ladies bring her the posy of jewelled flowers which had been given her at the palace, she took each flower in her hand and called it by name, and, in turn, each fairy appeared before her. But, as unluckily often happens, the one to whom she owed the most, the crab-fairy, was forgotten, and by this, as in the case of other babies you have read about, much mischief was wrought.

However, for the moment all was gaiety in the palace, and everybody inside ran to the windows to watch the fairies’ carriages, for no two were alike. One had a car of ebony, drawn by white pigeons, another was lying back in her ivory chariot, driving ten black crows, while the rest had chosen rare woods or many-coloured sea-shells, with scarlet and blue macaws, long-tailed peacocks, or green love-birds for horses. These carriages were only used on occasions of state, for when they went to war flying dragons, fiery serpents, lions or leopards, took the place of the beautiful birds.

The fairies entered the queen’s chamber followed by little dwarfs who carried their presents and looked much prouder than their mistresses. One by one their burdens were spread upon the ground, and no one had ever seen such lovely things. Everything that a baby could possibly wear or play with was there, and besides, they had other and more precious gifts to give her, which only children who have fairies for godmothers can ever hope to possess.

They were all gathered round the heap of pink cushions on which the baby lay asleep, when a shadow seemed to fall between them and the sun, while a cold wind blew through the room. Everybody looked up, and there was the crab-fairy, who had grown as tall as the ceiling in her anger.

‘So I am forgotten!’ cried she, in a voice so loud that the queen trembled as she heard it. ‘Who was it soothed you in your trouble? Who was it led you to the fairies? Who was it brought you back in safety to your home again? Yet I—I—am overlooked, while these who have done nothing in comparison, are petted and thanked.’

The queen, almost dumb with terror, in vain tried to think of some explanation or apology; but there was none, and she could only confess her fault and implore forgiveness. The fairies also did their best to soften the wrath of their sister, and knowing that, like many plain people who are not fairies, she was very vain, they entreated her to drop her crab’s disguise, and to become once more the charming person they were accustomed to see.

For some time the enraged fairy would listen to nothing; but at length the flatteries began to take effect. The crab’s shell fell from her, she shrank into her usual size, and lost some of her fierce expression.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I will not cause the princess’s death, as I had meant to do, but at the same time she will have to bear the punishment of her mother’s fault, as many other children have done before her. The sentence I pass upon her is, that if she is allowed to see one ray of daylight before her fifteenth birthday she will rue it bitterly, and it may perhaps cost her her life.’ And with these words she vanished by the window through which she came, while the fairies comforted the weeping queen and took counsel how best the princess might be kept safe during her childhood.

At the end of half an hour they had made up their minds what to do, and at the command of the fairies, a beautiful palace sprang up, close to that of the king and queen, but different from every palace in the world in having no windows, and only a door right under the earth. However, once within, daylight was hardly missed, so brilliant were the multitudes of tapers that were burning on the walls.

Now up to this time the princess’s history has been like the history of many a princess that you have read about; but, when the period of her imprisonment was nearly over, her fortunes took another turn. For almost fifteen years the fairies had taken care of her, and amused her and taught her, so that when she came into the world she might be no whit behind the daughters of other kings in all that makes a princess charming and accomplished. They all loved her dearly, but the fairy Tulip loved her most of all; and as the princess’s fifteenth birthday drew near, the fairy began to tremble lest something terrible should happen—some accident which had not been foreseen. ‘Do not let her out of your sight,’ said Tulip to the queen, ‘and meanwhile, let her portrait be painted and carried to the neighbouring Courts, as is the custom in order that the kings may see how far her beauty exceeds that of every other princess, and that they may demand her in marriage for their sons.’

And so it was done; and as the fairy had prophesied, all the young princes fell in love with the picture; but the last one to whom it was shown could think of nothing else, and refused to let it be removed from his chamber, where he spent whole days gazing at it.

The king his father was much surprised at the change which had come over his son, who generally passed all his time in hunting or hawking, and his anxiety was increased by a conversation he overheard between two of his courtiers that they feared the prince must be going out of his mind, so moody had he become. Without losing a moment the king went to visit his son, and no sooner had he entered the room than the young man flung himself at his father’s feet. ‘You have betrothed me already to a bride I can never love!’ cried he; ‘but if you will not consent to break off the match, and ask for the hand of the princess Desiree, I shall die of misery, thankful to be alive no longer.’

These words much displeased the king, who felt that, in breaking off the marriage already arranged he would almost certainly be bringing on his subjects a long and bloody war; so, without answering, he turned away, hoping that a few days might bring his son to reason. But the prince’s condition grew rapidly so much worse that the king, in despair, promised to send an embassy at once to Desiree’s father.

This news cured the young man in an instant of all his ills; and he began to plan out every detail of dress and of horses and carriages which were necessary to make the train of the envoy, whose name was Becasigue, as splendid as possible. He longed to form part of the embassy himself, if only in the disguise of a page; but this the king would not allow, and so the prince had to content himself with searching the kingdom for everything that was rare and beautiful to send to the princess. Indeed, he arrived, just as the embassy was starting, with his portrait, which had been painted in secret by the court painter.

The king and queen wished for nothing better than that their daughter marry into such a great and powerful family, and received the ambassador with every sign of welcome. They even wished him to see the princess Desiree, but this was prevented by the fairy Tulip, who feared some ill might come of it.

‘And be sure you tell him,’ added she, ‘that the marriage cannot be celebrated till she is fifteen years old, or else some terrible misfortune will happen to the child.’

So when Becasigue, surround by his train, made a formal request that the princess Desiree might be given in marriage to his master’s son, the king replied that he was much honoured, and would gladly give his consent; but that no one could even see the princess till her fifteenth birthday, as the spell laid upon her in her cradle by a spiteful fairy, would not cease to work till that was past. The ambassador was greatly surprised and disappointed, but he knew too much about fairies to venture to disobey them, therefore he had to content himself with presenting the prince’s portrait to the queen, who lost no time in carrying it to the princess. As the girl took it in her hands it suddenly spoke, as it had been taught to do, and uttered a compliment of the most delicate and charming sort, which made the princess flush with pleasure.

‘How would you like to have a husband like that?’ asked the queen, laughing.

‘As if I knew anything about husbands!’ replied Desiree, who had long ago guessed the business of the ambassador.

‘Well, he will be your husband in three months,’ answered the queen, ordering the prince’s presents to be brought in. The princess was very pleased with them, and admired them greatly, but the queen noticed that all the while her eyes constantly strayed from the softest silks and most brilliant jewels to the portrait of the prince.

The ambassador, finding that there was no hope of his being allowed to see the princess, took his leave, and returned to his own court; but here a new difficulty appeared. The prince, though transported with joy at the thought that Desiree was indeed to be his bride, was bitterly disappointed that she had not been allowed to return with Becasigue, as he had foolishly expected; and never having been taught to deny himself anything or to control his feelings, he fell as ill as he had done before. He would eat nothing nor take pleasure in anything, but lay all day on a heap of cushions, gazing at the picture of the princess.

‘If I have to wait three months before I can marry the princess I shall die!’ was all this spoilt boy would say; and at length the king, in despair, resolved to send a fresh embassy to Desiree’s father to implore him to permit the marriage to be celebrated at once. ‘I would have presented my prayer in person, he added in his letter, ‘but my great age and infirmities do not suffer me to travel; however my envoy has orders to agree to any arrangement that you may propose.’

On his arrival at the palace Becasigue pleaded his young master’s cause as fervently as the king his father could have done, and entreated that the princess might be consulted in the matter. The queen hastened to the marble tower, and told her daughter of the sad state of the prince. Desiree sank down fainting at the news, but soon came to herself again, and set about inventing a plan which would enable her to go to the prince without risking the doom pronounced over her by the wicked fairy.

‘I see!’ she exclaimed joyfully at last. ‘Let a carriage be built through which no light can come, and let it be brought into my room. I will then get into it, and we can travel swiftly during the night and arrive before dawn at the palace of the prince. Once there, I can remain in some underground chamber, where no light can come.’

‘Ah, how clever you are,’ cried the queen, clasping her in her arms. And she hurried away to tell the king.

‘What a wife our prince will have!’ said Becasigue bowing low; ‘but I must hasten back with the tidings, and to prepare the underground chamber for the princess.’ And so he took his leave.

In a few days the carriage commanded by the princess was ready. It was of green velvet, scattered over with large golden thistles, and lined inside with silver brocade embroidered with pink roses. It had no windows, of course; but the fairy Tulip, whose counsel had been asked, had managed to light it up with a soft glow that came no one knew whither.

It was carried straight up into the great hall of the tower, and the princess stepped into it, followed by her faithful maid of honour, Eglantine, and by her lady in waiting Cerisette, who also had fallen in love with the prince’s portrait and was bitterly jealous of her mistress. The fourth place in the carriage was filled by Cerisette’s mother, who had been sent by the queen to look after the three young people.

Now the Fairy of the Fountain was the godmother of the princess Nera, to whom the prince had been betrothed before the picture of Desiree had made him faithless. She was very angry at the slight put upon her godchild, and from that moment kept careful watch on the princess. In this journey she saw her chance, and it was she who, invisible, sat by Cerisette, and put bad thoughts into the minds of both her and her mother.

The way to the city where the prince lived ran for the most part through a thick forest, and every night when there was no moon, and not a single star could be seen through the trees, the guards who travelled with the princess opened the carriage to give it an airing. This went on for several days, till only twelve hours journey lay between them and the palace. The Cerisette persuaded her mother to cut a great hole in the side of the carriage with a sharp knife which she herself had brought for the purpose. In the forest the darkness was so intense that no one perceived what she had done, but when they left the last trees behind them, and emerged into the open country, the sun was up, and for the first time since her babyhood, Desiree found herself in the light of day.

She looked up in surprise at the dazzling brilliance that streamed through the hole; then gave a sigh which seemed to come from her heart. The carriage door swung back, as if by magic, and a white doe sprang out, and in a moment was lost to sight in the forest. But, quick as she was, Eglantine, her maid of honour, had time to see where she went, and jumped from the carriage in pursuit of her, followed at a distance by the guards.

Cerisette and her mother looked at each other in surprise and joy. They could hardly believe in their good fortune, for everything had happened exactly as they wished. The first thing to be done was to conceal the hole which had been cut, and when this was managed (with the help of the angry fairy, though they did not know it), Cerisette hastened to take off her own clothes, and put on those of the princess, placing the crown of diamonds on her head. She found this heavier than she expected; but then, she had never been accustomed to wear crowns, which makes all the difference.

At the gates of the city the carriage was stopped by a guard of honour sent by the king as an escort to his son’s bride. Though Cerisette and her mother could of course see nothing of what was going on outside, they heard plainly the shouts of welcome from the crowds along the streets.

The carriage stopped at length in the vast hall which Becasigue had prepared for the reception of the princess. The grand chamberlain and the lord high steward were awaiting her, and when the false bride stepped into the brilliantly lighted room, they bowed low, and said they had orders to inform his highness the moment she arrived. The prince, whom the strict etiquette of the court had prevented from being present in the underground hall, was burning with impatience in his own apartments.

‘So she had come!’ cried he, throwing down the bow he had been pretending to mend. ‘Well, was I not right? Is she not a miracle of beauty and grace? And has she her equal in the whole world?’ The ministers looked at each other, and made no reply; till at length the chamberlain, who was the bolder of the two, observed:

‘My lord, as to her beauty, you can judge of that for yourself. No doubt it is as great as you say; but at present it seems to have suffered, as is natural, from the fatigues of the journey.’

This was certainly not what the prince had expected to hear. Could the portrait have flattered her? He had known of such things before, and a cold shiver ran through him; but with an effort he kept silent from further questioning, and only said:

‘Has the king been told that the princess is in the palace?’

‘Yes, highness; and he has probably already joined her.’

‘Then I will go too,’ said the prince.

Weak as he was from his long illness, the prince descended the staircase, supported by the ministers, and entered the room just in time to hear his father’s loud cry of astonishment and disgust at the sight of Cerisette.

‘There was been treachery at work,’ he exclaimed, while the prince leant, dumb with horror, against the doorpost. But the lady in waiting, who had been prepared for something of the sort, advanced, holding in her hand the letters which the king and queen had entrusted to her.

‘This is the princess Desiree,’ said she, pretending to have heard nothing, ‘and I have the honour to present to you these letters from my liege lord and lady, together with the casket containing the princess’ jewels.’

The king did not move or answer her; so the prince, leaning on the arm of Becasigue, approached a little closer to the false princess, hoping against hope that his eyes had deceived him. But the longer he looked the more he agreed with his father that there was treason somewhere, for in no single respect did the portrait resemble the woman before him. Cerisette was so tall that the dress of the princess did not reach her ankles, and so thin that her bones showed through the stuff. Besides that her nose was hooked, and her teeth black and ugly.

In his turn, the prince stood rooted to the spot. At last he spoke, and his words were addressed to his father, and not to the bride who had come so far to marry him.

‘We have been deceived,’ he said, ‘and it will cost me my life.’ And he leaned so heavily on the envoy that Becasigue feared he was going to faint, and hastily laid him on the floor. For some minutes no one could attend to anybody but the prince; but as soon as he revived the lady in waiting made herself heard.

‘Oh, my lovely princess, why did we ever leave home?’ cried she. ‘But the king your father will avenge the insults that have been heaped on you when we tell him how you have been treated.’

‘I will tell him myself,’ replied the king in wrath; ‘he promised me a wonder of beauty, he has sent me a skeleton! I am not surprised that he has kept her for fifteen years hidden away from the eyes of the world. Take them both away,’ he continued, turning to his guards, ‘and lodge them in the state prison. There is something more I have to learn of this matter.’

His orders were obeyed, and the prince, loudly bewailing his sad fate, was led back to bed, where for many days he lay in a high fever. At length he slowly began to gain strength, but his sorrow was still so great that he could not bear the sight of a strange face, and shuddered at the notion of taking his proper part in the court ceremonies. Unknown to the king, or to anybody but Becasigue, he planned that, as soon as he was able, he would make his escape and pass the rest of his life alone in some solitary place. It was some weeks before he had regained his health sufficiently to carry out his design; but finally, one beautiful starlight night, the two friends stole away, and when the king woke next morning he found a letter lying by his bed, saying that his son had gone, he knew not whither. He wept bitter tears at the news, for he loved the prince dearly; but he felt that perhaps the young man had done wisely, and he trusted to time and Becasigue’s influence to bring the wanderer home.

And while these things were happening, what had become of the white doe? Though when she sprang from the carriage she was aware that some unkind fate had changed her into an animal, yet, till she saw herself in a stream, she had no idea what it was.

‘Is it really, I, Desiree?’ she said to herself, weeping. ‘What wicked fairy can have treated me so; and shall I never, never take my own shape again? My only comfort that, in this great forest, full of lions and serpents, my life will be a short one.’

Now the fairy Tulip was as much grieved at the sad fate of the princess as Desiree’s own mother could have been if she had known of it. Still, she could not help feeling that if the king and queen had listened to her advice the girl would by this time be safely in the walls of her new home. However, she loved Desiree too much to let her suffer more than could be helped, and it was she who guided Eglantine to the place where the white doe was standing, cropping the grass which was her dinner.

At the sound of footsteps the pretty creature lifted her head, and when she saw her faithful companion approaching she bounded towards her, and rubbed her head on Eglantine’s shoulder. The maid of honour was surprised; but she was fond of animals, and stroked the white doe tenderly, speaking gently to her all the while. Suddenly the beautiful creature lifted her head, and looked up into Eglantine’s face, with tears streaming from her eyes. A thought flashed through her mind, and quick as lightning the girl flung herself on her knees, and lifting the animal’s feet kissed them one by one. ‘My princess! O my dear princess!’ cried she; and again the white doe rubbed her head against her, for thought the spiteful fairy had taken away her power of speech, she had not deprived her of her reason!

All day long the two remained together, and when Eglantine grew hungry she was led by the white doe to a part of the forest where pears and peaches grew in abundance; but, as night came on, the maid of honour was filled with the terrors of wild beasts which had beset the princess during her first night in the forest.

‘Is there no hut or cave we could go into?’ asked she. But the doe only shook her head; and the two sat down and wept with fright.

The fairy Tulip, who, in spite of her anger, was very soft-hearted, was touched at their distress, and flew quickly to their help.

‘I cannot take away the spell altogether,’ she said, ‘for the Fairy of the Fountain is stronger than I; but I can shorten the time of your punishment, and am able to make it less hard, for as soon as darkness fall you shall resume your own shape.’

To think that by-and-by she would cease to be a white doe—indeed, that she would at once cease to be one during the night—was for the present joy enough for Desiree, and she skipped about on the grass in the prettiest manner.

‘Go straight down the path in front of you,’ continued the fairy, smiling as she watched her; ‘go straight down the path and you will soon reach a little hut where you will find shelter.’ And with these words she vanished, leaving her hearers happier than they ever thought they could be again.

An old woman was standing at the door of the hut when Eglantine drew near, with the white doe trotting by her side.

‘Good evening!’ she said; ‘could you give me a night’s lodging for myself and my doe?’

‘Certainly I can,’ replied the old woman. And she led them into a room with two little white beds, so clean and comfortable that it made you sleepy even to look at them.

The door had hardly closed behind the old woman when the sun sank below the horizon, and Desiree became a girl again.

‘Oh, Eglantine! what should I have done if you had not followed me,’ she cried. And she flung herself into her friend’s arms in a transport of delight.

Early in the morning Eglantine was awakened by the sound of someone scratching at the door, and on opening her eyes she saw the white doe struggling to get out. The little creature looked up and into her face, and nodded her head as the maid of honour unfastened the latch, but bounded away into the woods, and was lost to sight in a moment.

Meanwhile, the prince and Becasigue were wandering through the wood, till at last the prince grew so tired, that he lay down under a tree, and told Becasigue that he had better go in search of food, and of some place where they could sleep. Becasigue had not gone very far, when a turn of the path brought him face to face with the old woman who was feeding her doves before her cottage.

‘Could you give me some milk and fruit?’ asked he. ‘I am very hungry myself, and, besides, I have left a friend behind me who is still weak from illness.’

‘Certainly I can,’ answered the old woman. ‘But come and sit down in my kitchen while I catch the goat and milk it.’

Becasigue was glad enough to do as he was bid, and in a few minutes the old woman returned with a basket brimming over with oranges and grapes.

‘If your friend has been ill he should not pass the night in the forest,’ said she. ‘I have room in my hut—tiny enough, it is true; but better than nothing, and to that you are both heartily welcome.’

Becasigue thanked her warmly, and as by this time it was almost sunset, he set out to fetch the prince. It was while he was absent that Eglantine and the white doe entered the hut, and having, of course, no idea that in the very next room was the man whose childish impatience had been the cause of all their troubles.

In spite of his fatigue, the prince slept badly, and directly it was light he rose, and bidding Becasigue remain where he was, as he wished to be alone, he strolled out into the forest. He walked on slowly, just as his fancy led him, till, suddenly, he came to a wide open space, and in the middle was the white doe quietly eating her breakfast. She bounded off at the sight of a man, but not before the prince, who had fastened on his bow without thinking, had let fly several arrows, which the fairy Tulip took care should do her no harm. But, quickly as she ran, she soon felt her strength failing her, for fifteen years of life in a tower had not taught her how to exercise her limbs.

Luckily, the prince was too weak to follow her far, and a turn of a path brought her close to the hut, where Eglantine was awaiting her. Panting for breath, she entered their room, and flung herself down on the floor.

When it was dark again, and she was once more the princess Desiree, she told Eglantine what had befallen her.

‘I feared the Fairy of the Fountain, and the cruel beasts,’ said she; ‘but somehow I never thought of the dangers that I ran from men. I do not know now what saved me.’

‘You must stay quietly here till the time of your punishment is over,’ answered Eglantine. But when the morning dawned, and the girl turned into a doe, the longing for the forest came over her, and she sprang away as before.

As soon as the prince was awake he hastened to the place where, only the day before, he had found the white doe feeding; but of course she had taken care to go in the opposite direction. Much disappointed, he tried first one green path and then another, and at last, wearied with walking, he threw himself down and went fast asleep.

Just at this moment the white doe sprang out of a thicket near by, and started back trembling when she beheld her enemy lying there. Yet, instead of turning to fly, something bade her go and look at him unseen. As she gazed a thrill ran through her, for she felt that, worn and wasted though he was by illness, it was the face of her destined husband. Gently stooping over him she kissed his forehead, and at her touch he awoke.

For a minute they looked at each other, and to his amazement he recognized the white doe which had escaped him the previous day. But in an instant the animal was aroused to a sense of her danger, and she fled with all her strength into the thickest part of the forest. Quick as lightning the prince was on her track, but this time it was with no wish to kill or even wound the beautiful creature.

‘Pretty doe! pretty doe! stop! I won’t hurt you,’ cried he, but his words were carried away by the wind.

At length the doe could run no more, and when the prince reached her, she was lying stretched out on the grass, waiting for her death blow. But instead the prince knelt at her side, and stroked her, and bade her fear nothing, as he would take care of her. So he fetched a little water from the stream in his horn hunting cup, then, cutting some branches from the trees, he twisted them into a litter which he covered with moss, and laid the white doe gently on it.

For a long time they remained thus, but when Desiree saw by the way that the light struck the trees, that he sun must be near its setting, she was filled with alarm lest the darkness should fall, and the prince should behold her in her human shape.

‘No, he must not see me for the first time here,’ she thought, and instantly began to plan how to get rid of him. Then she opened her mouth and let her tongue hang out, as if she were dying of thirst, and the prince, as she expected, hastened to the stream to get her some more water.

When he returned, the white doe was gone.

That night Desiree confessed to Eglantine that her pursuer was no other than the prince, and that far from flattering him, the portrait had never done him justice.

‘Is it not hard to meet him in this shape,’ wept she, ‘when we both love each other so much?’ But Eglantine comforted her, and reminded her that in a short time all would be well.

The prince was very angry at the flight of the white doe, for whom he had taken so much trouble, and returning to the cottage he poured out his adventures and his wrath to Becasigue, who could not help smiling.

‘She shall not escape me again,’ cried the prince. ‘If I hunt her every day for a year, I will have her at last.’ And in this frame of mind he went to bed.

When the white doe entered the forest next morning, she had not made up her mind whether she would go and meet the prince, or whether she would shun him, and hide in thickets of which he knew nothing. She decided that the last plan was the best; and so it would have been if the prince had not taken the very same direction in search of her.

Quite by accident he caught sight of her white skin shining through the bushes, and at the same instant she heard a twig snap under his feet. In a moment she was up and away, but the prince, not knowing how else to capture her, aimed an arrow at her leg, which brought her to the ground.

The young man felt like a murderer as he ran hastily up to where the white doe lay, and did his best to soothe the pain she felt, which, in reality, was the last part of the punishment sent by the Fairy of the Fountain. First he brought her some water, and then he fetched some healing herbs, and having crushed them in his hand, laid them on the wound.

‘Ah! what a wretch I was to have hurt you,’ cried he, resting her head upon his knees; ‘and now you will hate me and fly from me for ever!’

For some time the doe lay quietly where she was, but, as before, she remembered that the hour of her transformation was near. She struggled to her feet, but the prince would not hear of her walking, and thinking the old woman might be able to dress her wound better than he could, he took her in his arms to carry her back to the hut. But, small as she was, she made herself so heavy that, after staggering a few steps under her weight, he laid her down, and tied her fast to a tree with some of the ribbons of his hat. This done he went away to get help.

Meanwhile Eglantine had grown very uneasy at the long absence of her mistress, and had come out to look for her. Just as the prince passed out of sight the fluttering ribbons dance before her eyes, and she descried her beautiful princess bound to a tree. With all her might she worked at the knots, but not a single one could she undo, though all appeared so easy. She was still busy with them when a voice behind her said:

‘Pardon me, fair lady, but it is MY doe you are trying to steal!’

‘Excuse me, good knight’ answered Eglantine, hardly glancing at him, ‘but it is MY doe that is tied up here! And if you wish for a proof of it, you can see if she knows me or not. Touch my heart, my little one,’ she continued, dropping on her knees. And the doe lifted up its fore-foot and laid it on her side. ‘Now put your arms round my neck, and sigh.’ And again the doe did as she was bid.

‘You are right,’ said the prince; ‘but it is with sorrow I give her up to you, for though I have wounded her yet I love her deeply.’

To this Eglantine answered nothing; but carefully raising up the doe, she led her slowly to the hut.

Now both the prince and Becasigue were quite unaware that the old woman had any guests besides themselves, and, following afar, were much surprised to behold Eglantine and her charge enter the cottage. They lost no time in questioning the old woman, who replied that she knew nothing about the lady and her white doe, who slept next the chamber occupied by the prince and his friend, but that they were very quiet, and paid her well. Then she went back to her kitchen.

‘Do you know,’ said Becasigue, when they were alone, ‘I am certain that the lady we saw is the maid of honour to the Princess Desiree, whom I met at the palace. And, as her room is next to this, it will be easy to make a small hole through which I can satisfy myself whether I am right or not.’

So, taking a knife out of his pocket, he began to saw away the woodwork. The girls heard the grating noise, but fancying it was a mouse, paid no attention, and Becasigue was left in peace to pursue his work. At length the hole was large enough for him to peep through, and the sight was one to strike him dumb with amazement. He had guessed truly: the tall lady was Eglantine herself; but the other—where had he seen her? Ah! now he knew—it was the lady of the portrait!

Desiree, in a flowing dress of green silk, was lying stretched out upon cushions, and as Eglantine bent over her to bathe the wounded leg, she began to talk:

‘Oh! let me die,’ cried she, ‘rather than go on leading this life. You cannot tell the misery of being a beast all the day, and unable to speak to the man I love, to whose impatience I owe my cruel fate. Yet, even so, I cannot bring myself to hate him.’

These words, low though they were spoken, reached Becasigue, who could hardly believe his ears. He stood silent for a moment; then, crossing to the window out of which the prince was gazing, he took his arm and led him across the room. A single glance was sufficient to show the prince that it was indeed Desiree; and how another had come to the palace bearing her name, at that instant he neither knew nor cared. Stealing on tip-toe from the room, he knocked at the next door, which was opened by Eglantine, who thought it was the old woman bearing their supper.

She started back at the sight of the prince, whom this time she also recognised. But he thrust her aside, and flung himself at the feet of Desiree, to whom he poured out all his heart!

Dawn found them still conversing; and the sun was high in the heavens before the princess perceived that she retained her human form. Ah! how happy she was when she knew that the days of her punishment were over; and with a glad voice she told the prince the tale of her enchantment.

So the story ended well after all; and the fairy Tulip, who turned out to be the old woman of the hut, made the young couple such a wedding feast as had never been seen since the world began. And everybody was delighted, except Cerisette and her mother, who were put in a boat and carried to a small island, where they had to work hard for their living.

Let’s Talk About the Fairy Tale: Discussion Guide for Kids

Love

1. Do you think the Prince and Princess truly love each other? Why or why not?

Friendship

2. Do you think Becasigue is a good friend to the Prince? What makes a good friend, in your opinion?

French Fairy Tale by Countess d’Aulnoy

The post The White Doe first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Copyright © Storyberries 2020

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LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Honesty

1. In this story, Oscar tries to get a cake by pretending to be Grandma. What do you think would have been a better way for him to have a piece of cake?

2. Do you think it’s always best to be honest? Why or why not?

Fairy Tale bedtime story written by Jade Maitre

Illustrations and book design by Kseniya Shagieva

The post Little Red Riding Hood (Feel Good Fairy Tales) first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand if your child is sensitive to such themes.

Once upon a time there was a king’s daughter, who was so handsome, there was nothing in the world to be compared with her for beauty, and she was called the Fair with Golden Hair: because her locks were like the finest gold, marvellously bright, and falling all in ringlets to her feet. She always appeared with her hair flowing in curls about her, crowned with flowers, and her dresses embroidered with diamonds and pearls. However it might be, it was impossible to see her without loving her.

There was a young king amongst her neighbours, who was unmarried, very handsome, and very rich. When he heard all that was said about the Fair with Golden Hair, although he had never seen her, he felt so deeply in love with her, that he could neither eat nor drink, and therefore resolved to send an ambassador to ask her hand in marriage.

He had a magnificent coach made for this ambassador, gave him upwards of a hundred horses and as many servants, and charged him particularly not to return without the princess. From the moment that the envoy had taken leave of the king, the whole court talked of nothing else; and the king, who never doubted that the Fair with Golden Hair would consent to his proposal, ordered immediately fine dresses and splendid furniture to be prepared for her.

While the workmen were hard at work, the ambassador arrived at the Fair one’s court and delivered his little message; but whether she was that day out of temper, or that the compliment was not agreeable to her, she answered the ambassador, that she thanked the king, but had no inclination to marry. The ambassador quitted the court of the princess very low-spirited at not being able to bring her with him. He carried back all the presents he had been the bearer of from the king, for the princess was very prudent, and was perfectly aware that young ladies should never receive gifts from bachelors; so she declined accepting the beautiful diamonds and the other valuable articles, and only retained, in order not to affront the king, a quarter of a pound of English pins.

When the ambassador reached the capital city of the king, where he was so impatiently awaited, everybody was afflicted that he did not bring back with him the Fair with Golden Hair, and the king began to cry like a child. They endeavoured to console him, but without the least success.

There was a youth at court who was as beautiful as the sun, and had the finest figure in the kingdom. On account of his graceful manners and his intelligence he was called Avenant. Everybody loved him, except the envious, who were vexed that the king conferred favours upon him and daily confided to him his affairs.

Avenant was in company with some persons who were talking of the return of the ambassador, and saying he had done no good. “If the king had sent me to the Fair with Golden Hair,” said he to them carelessly, “I am certain she would have returned with me.” These mischief-makers went immediately to the king, and said, “Sire, you know not what Avenant asserts,—That if you had sent him to the Fair with Golden Hair he would have brought her back with him. Observe his malice! He pretends that he is handsomer than you, and that she would have been so fond of him that she would have followed him anywhere.”

At this the king flew into a rage—a rage so terrible, that he was quite beside himself. “Ha, ha!” he cried, “this pretty minion laughs at my misfortune, and values himself above me! Go!—fling him into the great tower, and let him starve to death!”

The royal guards hastened in search of Avenant, who had quite forgotten what he had said. They dragged him to prison, inflicting a thousand injuries upon him. The poor youth had only a little straw to lie upon, and would soon have perished but for a tiny spring that trickled through the foundations of the tower, and of which he drank a few drops to refresh himself, his mouth being parched with thirst.

One day, when he was quite exhausted, he exclaimed, with a heavy sigh, “What does the king complain of? He has not a subject more loyal than I am,—I have never done anything to offend him!”

The king by chance passed close by the tower, and hearing the voice of one he had loved so dearly, he stopped to listen, notwithstanding those who were with him, who hated Avenant, and said to the king, “What interests you, Sire?—Do you not know he is a rogue?”

The king replied, “Leave me alone; I would hear what he has to say.”

Having listened to his complaints, the tears stood in his eyes: he opened the door of the tower and called to the prisoner. Avenant came, and knelt before him in deep sorrow, and kissed his feet.

“What have I done, Sire, that I am thus severely treated?”

“You have made game of me, and of my ambassador,” answered the king. “You have boasted, that if I had sent you to the Fair with Golden Hair, you would certainly have brought her back with you.”

“It is true, Sire,” rejoined Avenant, “that I should have so impressed her with the sense of your majesty’s high qualities, that I feel persuaded she could not have refused you; and in saying that, Sire, I uttered nothing that could be disagreeable to you.”

The king saw clearly that Avenant was innocent. He cast an angry look upon the people who had undermined his favourite, and brought him away with him, sincerely repenting the wrong he had done to him.

After giving him an excellent supper he called him into his cabinet and said to him: “Avenant, I still love the Fair with Golden Hair; her refusal has not discouraged me: but I know not what course to take to induce her to marry me. I am tempted to send you to her to see if you could succeed.”

Avenant replied that he was ready to obey him in everything, and that he would set out the next day.

“Hold,” said the king; “I would give you a splendid team.”

“It is unnecessary,” answered Avenant; “I need only a good horse, and letters of credence from your majesty.”

The king embraced him, for he was delighted to find him prepared to start so quickly.

It was on a Monday morning that he took leave of the king and of his friends to proceed on his embassy, quite alone and without pomp or noise. His mind was occupied solely with schemes to induce the Fair with Golden Hair to marry the king. He had a writing-case in his pocket, and when a happy idea occurred to him for his introductory address, he alighted from his steed and seated himself under the trees to commit it to paper, so that he might not forget anything.

The next morning that he had set out at the first peep of day, in passing through a large meadow, a charming idea came into his head: he dismounted, and seated himself beside some willows and poplars which were planted along the bank of a little river that ran by the edge of the meadow. After he had made his note, he looked about him, delighted to find himself in so beautiful a spot.

He perceived on the grass a large gilded carp gasping and nearly exhausted, for in trying to catch some little flies it had leaped so far out of the water that it had fallen on the grass, and was all but dead. Avenant took pity upon it, and, although it was a fast-day, and he might have carried it off for his dinner, he picked it up and put it gently back into the river. As soon as my friend the carp felt the freshness of the water, she began to recover herself, and glided down to the very bottom, then rising again joyously to the bank of the stream,

“Avenant,” said she, “I thank you for the kindness you have done me; but for you I should have died. You have saved me; I will do as much for you.” After this little compliment she darted down again into the water, leaving Avenant much surprised at her intelligence and great civility.

Another day, as he continued his journey, he saw a crow in great distress. The poor bird was pursued by a large eagle (a great devourer of crows), which had nearly caught it, and would have swallowed it like a lentil if Avenant had not felt compassion for its misfortune. “Thus,” he cried, “do the strong oppress the weak. What right has the eagle to eat the crow?”

He seized his bow and arrow, which he always carried with him, and taking a good aim at the eagle, whizz! he sent the shaft right through its body; it fell dead, and the crow, enraptured, came and perched on a tree.

“Avenant,” it cried to him, “it was very generous of you thus to succour me, I who am only a poor crow; but I will not be ungrateful, I will do as much for you.”

Avenant admired the good sense of the crow, and resumed his journey.

Entering a great wood so early in the morning that there was scarcely light enough for him to see his road, he heard an owl screeching, like an owl in despair.

“Hey-day!” said he, “here’s an owl in great affliction. It has been caught, perhaps, in some net.” He searched on all sides, and at last discovered some large nets, which had been spread by fowlers during the night to catch small birds. “What a pity,” said he, “that men are only made to torment each other, or to persecute poor animals which do them no wrong or mischief.” He drew his knife and cut the cords.

The owl took flight: but returning swiftly on the wing,—”Avenant,” it cried, “it is needless for me to make a long speech to enable you to comprehend the obligation I am under to you: it speaks plainly enough for itself. The hunters would soon have been here. I had been taken, I had been dead, but for your assistance. I have a grateful heart; I will do as much for you.”

These were the three most important adventures which befell Avenant on his journey. He was so eager to reach the end of it, that he lost no time in repairing to the palace of the Fair with Golden Hair. Everything about it was admirable. There were diamonds to be seen in heaps, as though they were pebbles. Fine clothes, sweetmeats, money,—the most wonderful sight that ever was seen; and Avenant thought in his heart, if he could persuade the princess to leave all this to go to the king his master, he should be very lucky indeed. He dressed himself in a suit of brocade, with a plume of carnation and white feathers; combed and powdered himself, washed his face, put a richly embroidered scarf round his neck, with a little basket, and in it a beautiful little dog which he had bought as he came through Bologna. Avenant was so handsome, so amiable, and did everything with so much grace, that when he presented himself at the palace gate, the guards saluted him most respectfully, and they ran to inform the Fair with Golden Hair, that Avenant, ambassador from the king, her nearest neighbour, requested to be presented to her.

At the name of Avenant, the princess said, “That betokens something agreeable to me. I would wager he is a pretty fellow, and pleases everybody.” “Yes, in sooth, Madam,” exclaimed all her maids of honour, “We saw him from the loft in which we were dressing your flax, and as long as he remained under the windows we could do no work.”

“Very pretty,” replied the Fair with Golden Hair, “Amusing yourselves with looking at young men!—Here, give me my grand gown of blue embroidered satin, and arrange my fair hair very tastefully; get me some garlands of fresh flowers, my high-heeled shoes, and my fan. Let them sweep my presence-chamber, and dust my throne; for I would have him declare everywhere that I am truly the Fair with Golden Hair.”

All her women hastened to attire her like a queen. They were in such a hurry that they ran against each other, and made scarcely any progress. At length, however, the princess passed into the great gallery of mirrors, to see if anything was wanting, and then ascended her throne of gold, ivory, and ebony, which emitted a perfume like balsam, and commanded her maids of honour to take their instruments, and sing very softly so as not to confuse anyone.

Avenant was ushered into the hall of audience. He was so struck with admiration, that he has since declared frequently that he could scarcely speak; nevertheless, he took courage, and delivered his oration to perfection. He beseeched the princess that he might not have the mortification of returning without her.

“Gentle Avenant,” she replied, “the arguments you have adduced are all of them exceedingly good, and I assure you I should be very happy to favour you more than another, but you must know that about a month ago I was walking by the river side, with all my ladies in waiting, and in pulling off my glove in order to take some refreshment that was served me I drew from my finger a ring, which unfortunately fell into the stream. I valued it more than my kingdom. I leave you to imagine the grief its loss occasioned me. I have made a vow never to listen to any offers of marriage, if the ambassador, who proposes the husband, does not restore to me my ring. You now see therefore what you have to do in this matter, for though you should talk to me for a fortnight, night and day, you would never persuade me to change my mind.”

Avenant was much surprised at this answer: he made the princess a low bow, and begged her to accept the little dog, the basket, and the scarf; but she replied that she would receive no presents, and bade him go and reflect on what she had said to him. When he returned to his lodgings, he went to bed without eating any supper, and his little dog, whose name was Cabriolle, would take none himself, and went and laid down beside his master.

All night long Avenant never ceased sighing. “Where can I hope to find a ring that fell a month ago into a great river?” said he; “it would be folly to attempt looking for it. The princess only named this condition to me because she knew it was impossible for me to fulfil it.” And then he sighed again and was very sorrowful.

Cabriolle, who heard him, said, “My dear master, I entreat you not to despair of your good fortune: you are too amiable not to be happy. Let us go to the river side as soon as it is daylight.” Avenant gave him two little pats, without saying a word, and, worn out with grieving, fell asleep.

Cabriolle, as soon as he saw daybreak, frisked about so that he woke Avenant, and said to him, “Dress yourself, master, and let us go out.” Avenant was quite willing; he arose, dressed, and descended into the garden, and from the garden strayed mechanically towards the river, on the banks of which he strolled with his hat pulled over his eyes, and his arms folded, thinking only of taking his departure, when suddenly he heard himself called by his name—”Avenant! Avenant!”

He looked all around him, and could see nobody: he thought he was dreaming. He resumed his walk, when again the voice called, “Avenant! Avenant!”

“Who calls me?” he asked. Cabriolle, who was very little and was looking close down into the water, replied, “Never trust me if it be not a golden carp that I see here.”

Immediately the carp appeared on the surface, and said to Avenant, “You saved my life in the nettle-tree meadow, where I must have perished but for your assistance. I promised to do as much for you. Here, dear Avenant, is the ring of the Fair with Golden Hair.”

Avenant stooped and took the ring out of his friend the carp’s mouth, whom he thanked a thousand times. Instead of returning to his lodgings he went directly to the palace, followed by little Cabriolle, who was very glad he had induced his master to take a walk by the river side.

The princess was informed that Avenant requested to see her.

“Alas! poor youth,” said she, “he is come to take leave of me. He is convinced that I required an impossibility, and he is about to return with these tidings to his master.”

Avenant was introduced, and presented her with the ring, saying, “Madam, I have obeyed your commands. Will it please you to accept the king my master for your husband?”

When she saw her ring quite perfect she was so astonished—so astonished—that she thought she was dreaming!

“Really,” said she, “Courteous Avenant, you must be favoured by a fairy, for by natural means this is impossible.”

“Madam,” he answered, “I am not acquainted with any fairy, but I was very anxious to obey you.”

“As you are so obliging,” continued she, “You must do me another service, without which I never will be married. There is a prince not far from here, named Galifron, who has taken it into his head he will make me his wife. He declared to me his determination, accompanying it by the most terrible threats, that if I refused him he would lay waste my kingdom; but judge if I could accept him. He is a giant taller than a high tower; he eats a man as a monkey eats a chestnut; when he goes into the country he carries in his pockets small cannons which he uses for pistols, and when he speaks very loud those who are near him become deaf. I sent word to him that I did not wish to marry, and that he must excuse me, but he has never ceased to persecute me. He kills all my subjects, and before anything can be done you must fight him and bring me his head.”

Avenant was a little astounded at this proposition; he mused for a few minutes upon it, and then answered, “Well, Madam, I will fight Galifron; I believe I shall be conquered, but I will die as becomes a brave man.”

The princess was much surprised at his determination; she said a thousand things to prevent his undertaking the adventure. It was of no use. He withdrew to seek for weapons and everything else he might require. When he had made his preparations, he replaced little Cabriolle in his basket, mounted a fine horse, and rode into the dominions of Galifron.

He inquired about him of all he met, and everyone told him he was a very demon whom nobody dared approach. The more he heard of him the more his alarm increased.

Cabriolle encouraged him, and said, “My dear Master, while you fight him I will bite his legs; he will stoop to rid himself of me, and then you can kill him easily.”

Avenant admired the wit of the little dog, but he knew well enough that his help could be of little avail. At length he arrived in the neighbourhood of Galifron’s castle. All the roads to it were strewed with the bones and bodies of men whom he had eaten or torn to pieces. He did not wait long before he saw the monster coming through a wood; his head was visible above the highest trees, and he sang in a terrible voice—

“Ho! bring me some babies, fat or lean,

That I may crunch ’em my teeth between!

I could eat so many! so many! so many!

That in the wide world there would not be left any!

Upon which Avenant immediately sang to the same tune—

“Ho! Here is Avenant to be seen,

Who comes to draw your teeth so keen;

He’s not the greatest man to view,

But he’s big enough to conquer you.”

The rhymes were not quite adapted to the music, but he made them in a great hurry; and it is really a miracle they were not much worse, for he was in a desperate fright.

When Galifron heard these words, he looked about him in every direction, and caught sight of Avenant, who, sword in hand, uttered several taunts to provoke him. They were needless, however. He was in a dreadful rage, and snatching up an iron mace, he would have crushed the gentle Avenant at one blow, had not a crow lighted at that instant on his head, and with its beak most accurately picked out both his eyes. The blood ran down his face, and he laid about him on all sides like a madman. Avenant avoided his blows, and gave him such thrusts with his sword, running it up to the hilt in his body, that at last he fell bleeding from a thousand wounds.

Avenant quickly cut off his head, quite transported with joy at his good fortune; and the crow, who had perched itself on the nearest tree, said to him: “I have not forgotten the service you rendered me in killing the eagle which pursued me. I promised you I would return the obligation. I trust I have done so to-day.”

“I owe all to you, Monsieur Crow,” replied Avenant, “And remain your obliged servant;” and forthwith mounted his horse, laden with the horrible head of Galifron. When he reached the city, all the people followed him, crying, “Behold the brave Avenant, who has slain the monster!” So that the princess, who heard a great uproar, and who trembled lest they should come and announce to her the death of Avenant, dared not inquire what had happened. But the next moment she saw Avenant enter, bearing the giant’s head, which still impressed her with terror, although there was no longer any occasion for alarm.

“Madam,” said Avenant to the princess, “Your enemy is dead: I trust you will no longer refuse the king my master.”

“Ah! pardon me,” said the Fair with Golden Hair; “But, indeed, I must refuse him, unless you can find means, before my departure, to bring me some water from the Gloomy Grotto. Hard by there is a deep cavern, full six leagues in extent. At the mouth of it are two dragons, who prevent any one from entering: flames issue from their jaws and eyes. Inside the cavern is a deep pit, into which you must descend: it is full of toads, adders, and serpents. At the bottom of this pit there is a small cavity, through which flows the fountain of Health and Beauty. Some of that water I must absolutely obtain. Whatever is washed with it becomes something marvellous. If persons are handsome, they remain so for ever; if ugly, they become beautiful: if young, they remain always young; if old, they become young again. You may well imagine, Avenant, that I would not quit my kingdom without some of this wonderful water.”

“Madam,” he replied, “You are so beautiful already, that this water will be quite useless to you; but I am an unfortunate ambassador, whose death you desire. I go in search of that which you covet, with the certainty that I shall never return.”

The Fair with Golden Hair was immovable, and Avenant set out with the little dog Cabriolle to seek in the Gloomy Grotto the water of beauty. Everybody who met him on the road exclaimed, “‘Tis a pity to see so amiable a youth wantonly court destruction. He goes alone to the grotto, when even if he had a hundred men to back him he could not accomplish his object. Why will the princess only demand impossibilities?” Avenant passed on without saying a word, but he was in very low spirits.

Having nearly got to the top of a mountain, he sat down to rest a little, allowing his horse to graze and Cabriolle to run after the flies. He knew that the Gloomy Grotto was not far from that spot, and looked about to see if he could discover it. He perceived a horrible rock, as black as ink, out of which issued a thick smoke; and the next minute one of the dragons, casting out fire from his mouth and eyes. It had a green and yellow body, great claws, and a long tail, coiled round in more than a hundred folds.

Cabriolle saw all this, and was so frightened he did not know where to hide himself. Avenant, perfectly prepared to die, drew his sword, and descended towards the cavern, with a phial which the Fair with Golden Hair had given him to fill with the water of beauty. He said to his little dog Cabriolle, “It is all over with me; I shall never be able to obtain the water which is guarded by those dragons. When I am dead, fill the phial with my blood, and carry it to the princess, that she may see what she has cost me. Then go to the king my master, and tell him my sad story.”

As he uttered these words, he heard a voice calling, “Avenant! Avenant!”

“Who calls me?” he asked; and he saw an owl in the hollow of an old tree, who said to him:

“You let me out of the fowler’s net in which I was caught, and saved my life. I promised I would do you as good a turn, and now is the time. Give me your phial. I am familiar with all the windings in the Gloomy Grotto. I will fetch you some of the water of beauty.”

Oh, I leave you to imagine who was delighted! Avenant quickly handed the phial to the owl, and saw it enter the grotto without the least difficulty. In less than a quarter of an hour the bird returned with the phial full of water, and tightly stopped. Avenant was in ecstasies! He thanked the owl heartily, and, re-ascending the mountain, joyfully took his way back to the city.

He went straight to the palace and presented the phial to the Fair with Golden Hair, who had no longer an excuse to make. She thanked Avenant, gave orders for everything to be got ready for her departure, and finally set out with him on their journey. She found him an exceedingly agreeable companion, and said to him more than once, “If you had wished it, I would have made you king, and there would have been no occasion for us to quit my dominions.” But his answer was always, “I would not be guilty of such treachery to my master for all the kingdoms on the face of the earth, although you are to me more beautiful than the sun!”

At length they arrived at the king’s capital city, and his majesty, hearing the Fair with Golden Hair was approaching, went to meet her, and made her the most superb presents in the world! The marriage was celebrated with such great rejoicings, that folks could talk of nothing else. But the Fair with Golden Hair, who secretly loved Avenant, was never happy when he was out of her sight, and was always praising him. “But for Avenant,” she would say to the king, “I should never have been here. For my sake he has done impossibilities. You should feel deeply indebted to him. He obtained for me the water of beauty. I shall never grow old, and I shall always remain handsome.”

The envious courtiers who heard the queen express herself thus, said to the king, “You are not jealous, and yet you have good cause to be so. The queen is so deeply in love with Avenant, that she can neither eat nor drink. She can talk of nothing but him, and of the obligations you are under to him. As if any one else it had pleased you to send to her would not have done as much!”

“That’s quite true,” said the king, “Now I think of it. Let him be put in the tower, with irons on his hands and feet.”

Avenant was accordingly seized, and in return for his faithful service to the king, fettered hand and foot in a dungeon. He was allowed to see no one but the gaoler, who threw him a morsel of black bread through a hole, and gave him some water in an earthen pan. His little dog Cabriolle, however, did not desert him; but came daily to console him and tell him all the news.

When the Fair with Golden Hair heard of Avenant’s disgrace, she flung herself at the king’s feet, and, bathed in tears, implored him to release Avenant from prison. But the more she entreated, the more angry the king became, for he thought to himself, “It is because she loves him,” so he refused to stir in the matter. The queen ceased to urge him, and fell into a deep melancholy.

The king took it into his head, that perhaps she did not think him handsome enough. He longed to wash his face with the water of beauty, in hopes that the queen would then feel more affection for him. The phial full of this water stood on the chimney-piece in the queen’s chamber: she had placed it there for the pleasure of looking at it more frequently: but one of her chamber-maids, trying to kill a spider with a broom, unfortunately threw down the phial, which broke in the fall, and all the water was lost. She swept the fragments of glass away quickly; and not knowing what to do, it suddenly occurred to her, that she had seen in the king’s cabinet a phial precisely similar, full of water, as clear as the water of beauty; so, without a word to any one, she adroitly managed to get possession of it, and placed it on the queen’s chimney-piece.

The water which was in the king’s cabinet was used for the execution of princes and great noblemen who were condemned to die for any crime. Instead of beheading or hanging them, their faces were rubbed with this water, which had the fatal property of throwing them into a deep sleep, from which they never awakened. So it happened one evening that the king took down the phial which he fancied contained the water of beauty, and rubbing the contents well over his face, he fell into a profound slumber and expired. The little dog, Cabriolle, was the first to hear the news of the king’s death, and ran with it to Avenant, who begged him to go and find the Fair with Golden Hair, and remind her of the poor prisoner.

Cabriolle slipped quietly through the crowd, for there was great confusion at court, in consequence of the king’s death, and said to the queen, “Madam, do not forget poor Avenant.” She immediately recalled to her mind all that he had suffered on her account, and his extreme fidelity.

She left the palace without speaking to any one, and went directly to the tower, where with her own hands she took the irons off the hands and feet of Avenant, and putting a crown of gold upon his head, and a royal mantle over his shoulders, she said, “Come, charming Avenant, I make you king, and take you for my husband.” He threw himself at her feet in joy and gratitude. Everybody was delighted to have him for their master. His nuptials were the most splendid that ever were seen in the world, and the Fair with Golden Hair reigned long and happily with the handsome Avenant.

A kindly action never fail to do.

The smallest brings a blessing back to you.

When Avenant preserved the carp and crow,

And even had compassion on the woe

Of an ill-omen’d and ill-favour’d owl,

Who would have dream’d a feeble fish or fowl

Would place him on the pinnacle of fame?

When of his king he urged the tender flame,

And won the fair he for another woo’d,

Unshaken in his loyalty he stood.

Innocent victim of a rival’s hate,

When all seem’d lost—when darkest frown’d his fate,

Just Providence reversed the ruthless doom,—

To Virtue gave the throne, to Tyranny a tomb.

French Fairy Tale by the Countess d’Aulnoy

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Love, Friendship

1. Avenant loves The Fair with the Golden Hair, but will not marry her. Why? Do you think people always marry those they love?

2. The King punishes Avenant when he believes The Fair with the Golden Hair is in love with him. Do you think he was right to do this? Why or why not?

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