A Treasury of Fairy Tales Read online

  For Little L with love

  HC

  For Felix, Oscar, Osian and Inigo with love

  SB

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Beauty and the Beast

  Cinderella

  Dick Whittington

  The Frog Prince

  Puss in Boots

  Rapunzel

  The Sleeping Beauty

  Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

  Snow-white and Rose-red

  The Twelve Dancing Princesses

  The Emperor’s New Clothes

  The Princess and the Pea

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Beauty and the Beast

  There was a once a wealthy merchant who had lost his wife but had three sons and three daughters. The sons were fine young men and the three girls were all beautiful, but the youngest in particular was so lovely that right from being a little child she had been called ‘Beauty’. She was as kind and wise as she was beautiful, and her elder sisters, who were vain and proud, were both jealous of her.

  Then the merchant lost his fortune and all he had left was a cottage in the country with a few acres of land around it. He called his children together and told them what had happened.

  “We must go and live in the cottage,” he told them, “and make our living as honestly as we may, and try to be happy.”

  The two elder daughters laughed the idea to scorn.

  “Live in the country?” cried they. “In a cottage? That is hardly the life for us! We shall get married.”

  But now that they had no fortune, nobody wanted to marry them, and so they were forced to go to the country after all. The family settled in the cottage and the merchant and his sons set to work to dig and till the land. Beauty herself rose at four every morning and spent the whole day cleaning and cooking and looking after her hens. The only ones who were bored were the two sisters, who got up late and then spent the whole day idling and talking about the old days when they had been rich and gone to fine balls every night of the week.

  After a year or so the merchant had a letter to tell him that a ship on which he had valuable cargo had come safely into port. Overjoyed, he prepared himself for the journey to go and collect the money. Before he left, he called his three daughters and asked each of them what she would like him to bring back as a present. The two elder sisters greedily prepared such long lists of gowns and hats and mantles that their poor father secretly wondered if there would be any money left once he had bought them all.

  When it came to Beauty’s turn to choose, she did not wish to ask for anything at all, but knew her sisters would think her priggish if she asked for nothing, so she replied, “I wish I could have a rose – just a single rose. There are none in our garden here in the country, and I long to see and smell one again.”

  The father set off with high hopes, but when he reached the port he found that he still owed so much money that when he had paid it all, there was nothing left. So he turned back home no richer than he had started, and was sad at heart to think that he could not afford to buy the presents he had promised his children.

  When he was only thirty miles from home, and riding through a great forest, it began to snow. The flakes whirled so thickly that he could see only a few yards before him, and soon he had taken a wrong turning and was quite lost. It was growing dark, and far off he heard the wolves howl. He stumbled, and fell into the snow, and lay there for a minute in despair. Then he began to pull himself to his feet, and lifted his head and saw golden bands of light shining through the curtain of snow. He made towards them and soon he saw that the light shone from hundreds of windows of a great castle, and thankfully he led the horse within the stone walls of the courtyard. There the door of a stable stood open, and he saw a manger filled with corn and hay. The tired horse trotted gratefully inside and was soon well fed and ready for the night.

  The merchant himself then went to the house, but there was not a sign of life. All was brilliantly lit and warm, but absolutely silent. He pushed the door and went in and found himself in a dining hall where a fire blazed and a table stood set ready for one person. He went to the fire and warmed himself and cast longing looks towards the fine supper, but though he waited and waited, nobody came. By eleven o’clock he was so ravenously hungry that he said to himself, “Surely, whoever is master here will pardon me if I take some food?”

  And he went and took some chicken and then some wine and some fruit and soon began to feel better. He went out and began to explore the palace and soon found himself in a rich apartment set out ready as if for a guest. Here he lay on the bed and was soon asleep.

  When he awoke next morning the first thing he saw was a new suit of clothes laid where his own wet and muddy things had been the night before.

  “This palace must surely belong to a good fairy,” thought he. He dressed and went down to find a fire blazing and the table set with hot toast and steaming chocolate.

  When he had eaten the merchant went out to his horse and saw that the snow had all gone and the sun was shining over green lawns and curving fountains and great banks of beautiful roses. At the sight of the flowers he suddenly remembered Beauty’s parting wish, and as he went under an archway, reached up and snapped off a single red rose.

  As he did so there came a terrible roar and the merchant turned to find himself face to face with a beast so horrible that he almost fainted right away with terror.

  “So this is your gratitude!” snarled the Beast. “I have saved your life by taking you into my castle, and you repay me by robbing me of my roses, that I love more than anything else in the world! And you shall die for it!”

  The merchant threw himself on his knees.

  “Pardon me, my lord! I meant no harm! I was only plucking a single rose to take to one of my daughters who had asked me to bring her one!”

  “I am not called ‘My Lord’, but ‘The Beast,’” snarled the terrible creature then. “And whether you meant to take one rose or a thousand makes not a whit of difference. But you say you have daughters at home. Very well. If one of them will come willingly here, and give her life in your place, then you may go free. But if none of them will do this, you must give me your promise that you will return here yourself three months from this day.”

  The merchant had no intention of letting one of his daughters die instead of himself, but he thought, “This gives me at least a chance to go and see them for the last time, and say my farewells,” and so he agreed, and gave his promise. Then the Beast told him to go back to his room in the castle where he would find an empty chest.

  “Fill it with as much treasure as you can carry,” said the Beast. “There is no need for you to go away empty handed.”

  With this he disappeared. And so the merchant rode home laden with riches after all, though his heart was sadly laden too.

  When he reached home his family rushed to welcome him and the two elder sisters clamoured for their gifts. The merchant shook his head and took the rose and gave it to Beauty, saying, “Take your rose, my Beauty, and enjoy it while you may, for it has cost your poor father very dear!”

  Then he told them the whole story, and when he had finished the two elder sisters cried, “There! See now what you have done, Beauty, with your childish requests!”

  The three brothers cried, “Only tell us where this monster lives, and we will go and kill him!”

  “He would kill you,” replied the merchant. “No, there is nothing else for it. I must die.”

  But when the three months were up, Beauty went with her father to the Beast’s castle determined that she would take h
is place. No one could stop her, and as the pair left the cottage the brothers wept and the two sisters cried tears they had made by rubbing their eyes with an onion.

  The merchant’s horse guided the pair to the Beast’s palace of his own accord, and they found it brightly lit as before.

  A fine meal was set out for two people and they sat to their supper, though they were too sad to be hungry and only ate each to please the other. As they rose from the table there was a terrible growling, and there stood the Beast himself before them. He asked Beauty whether she had come readily, of her own free will, to take her father’s place, and when she answered “Yes”, he said to her, “You are a good girl, and I am obliged to you.”

  Then he told the merchant that he might stay in the palace for the night, but that next morning he was to go and never return again.

  When Beauty had parted from her father next morning, she threw herself down and wept bitterly. When she was calmer she sat up and looked about her and began to wonder what strange kind of place this was. She walked through the lovely gardens and then explored the palace itself. The more she saw, the more she had the strange feeling that it had all been planned specially for herself, and no one else. Even her favourite books stood upon the shelves and the rooms were furnished with the colours she loved best. She took down one of the books, and read in gold letters,

  “Desire. Command. You are Lady and Mistress here.”

  “Alas!” sighed Beauty. “All I desire is to see my poor father and know how he is.”

  She laid down the book and looked up, straight into a large mirror that hung on the wall opposite. There, in the glass, she saw the cottage and her father entering it, his face full of grief. Then her sisters ran out to greet him, and as she watched the picture faded and they were gone. But now her heart was lighter, for she thought, “The Beast is perhaps not so fierce as he seems. Surely if he were, he would not have done such a thing to make me happy?”

  At supper that evening the Beast appeared again and though Beauty trembled with terror she forced herself to look at him and answer his questions.

  “Beauty,” growled the monster, “are you willing to let me look at you while you sup?”

  “You are master here,” replied Beauty.

  “No!” replied the Beast. “You alone are mistress here. If you bid me go away, I shall go. And it would be no great surprise if you did so. Tell me, am I not the ugliest thing you ever set eyes on?”

  “You are ugly” agreed Beauty, not wishing to tell a lie. “But I begin to think that you are very kind. And when I think how good you are at heart, then you no longer seem quite so ugly to me.”

  The Beast seemed pleased by her words and sat quite still and watched while she finished her supper. Then, quite without warning, he said,

  “Beauty, will you be my wife?”

  She was so shocked by the question that at first she could find no words to answer, but replied simply at last, “No, Beast.”

  At this he let out a shriek of pain so terrible that the whole palace shook and Beauty thought her last hour had come. But the Beast, once he had recovered, only said gently, “Goodnight, then, Beauty,” and went to the door, with a last wistful look at her before he went. Beauty, seeing his large, reproachful eyes, was filled with pity.

  “Poor Beast,” she thought. “To be so kind of heart and yet to be so ugly.”

  Three months passed by, and each day Beauty amused herself in the palace and gardens, and each evening the Beast came to visit her. As the days passed, she became used to his ugliness and even began to look forward to seeing him at night. There was only one thing she dreaded, and that was the time when, before he left her, he would ask her the same question, night after night.

  “Beauty, will you marry me?”

  And each night she was forced to answer “No,” and to see his pain and sadness. One evening she said to him, “Beast, I only wish that I could marry you, but I cannot bring myself to pretend what I do not feel. I shall always be your friend – can you not be content with that?”

  “I suppose I must,” replied the Beast. “And I cannot blame you, for I know how horribly ugly I am. But I love you more than life itself – will you at least promise me that you will never leave me?”

  Now that very day Beauty had looked into the magic looking glass and seen there pictures of her father who had become ill with grief at losing her.

  “I would willingly promise never to leave you altogether!” she cried. “But I long so much to see my poor father again that I fear both he and I will die of grief if I cannot visit him!”

  “I would rather die myself than make you unhappy,” said the Beast. “But if I send you home, then you will never come back, and then your poor Beast will die of grief!”

  “Oh no!” cried Beauty, weeping. “I love you too much now to wish to cause your death. If you let me go to my father, I promise I shall return in eight days.”

  “You shall be there in the morning,” the Beast told her. “And when you wish to return, lay your ring on the table before you go to bed. And remember your promise, Beauty – eight days. Goodbye!”

  The Beast gave his usual great sigh and left her for the night, and when he had gone Beauty went to bed and wept into her pillow, grieved that she should have hurt him. When she awoke next day she was in her father’s house, and the whole household was amazed at her marvellous reappearance. Her father was beside himself with joy, and begged Beauty to hurry and dress and come downstairs so that they would have the whole long day together.

  Then Beauty realised that she had no clothes to put on, but the maid came and told her that she had just found a chest in the next room, and that it was filled with beautiful and costly gowns. Beauty’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered the poor, ugly Beast and saw how well and faithfully he looked after her.

  Beauty’s father was soon well again, and one day her sisters came visiting with their husbands. They were filled with spite and envy when they saw Beauty looking so happy, lovelier than ever and dressed like a princess. When they learned of the promise Beauty had made to the Beast, they began to plot against her.

  “We will persuade her to overstay her visit,” said the eldest. “Then the Beast will be so enraged that he will devour her, and we shall be rid of her forever!”

  “Perfect!” cried the other. “We will pretend to be very fond of her, and beg her to stay longer with us, and she is so soft-hearted that she is bound to give in!”

  And so it happened. On the eighth day, when Beauty was preparing to leave, her sisters made such a show of grief and wept so loudly and implored her so desperately to stay longer with them, that Beauty was quite overwhelmed.

  “I had not known that they loved me so dearly,” she thought. “And surely there is no great harm in staying just a little longer to make them happy?”

  And so she gave in and stayed, and the wicked sisters gloated secretly and were certain that soon she would pay for it with her life.

  But on the tenth night of her visit, Beauty had a dream. She dreamed that she saw the Beast lying weak and dying in the grass, and reproaching her for breaking her promise to him. Beauty woke with a start and began to weep.

  “Poor Beast!” she cried. “How could I be so wicked and thoughtless! Ugly as he is, he has shown me nothing but gentleness and kindness, and this is how I repay him!” She took off her ring, placed it on the table beside the bed, and went to sleep again. When she awoke, she was back in her room at the Beast’s palace.

  She spent the day happily enough and towards evening went and dressed in her most beautiful gown to give the Beast pleasure, and eagerly went down to supper to meet him.

  The clock struck nine, but the Beast did not appear. Beauty knew at once that something was amiss, and began to run about the empty palace, vainly calling his name. Then she ran out into the gardens, remembering that in her dream she had seen the Beast lying in the grass near the brook. And it was there that she found him, lying with his eyes closed, l
ooking as though he were already dead.

  Beauty ran and flung herself to her knees beside him. She lifted his great head and cradled it in her lap, stroking it and weeping and crying, “Oh Beast, Beast, my dear Beast, what have I done to you?”

  She thought she saw his eyelids flicker, and ran straightway to the brook for water to set her handkerchief. Then she bathed his forehead, murmuring his name as she did so, and at last the Beast’s eyes opened and he looked up at her.

  “You forgot your promise,” he said faintly. “But now that I have seen you once more, I shall die happy, looking on your beloved face.”

  “No, dear Beast, you shan’t die,” cried Beauty. “You must live and become my husband. I know now that I love you truly, and want nothing more than to become your wife and make you happy. You must live, Beast, for my sake!”

  No sooner had she spoken these words than the whole palace was suddenly lit from within and beautiful music began to play. She turned her head to look, and when she looked back to the place where the Beast had been lying an instant before, there knelt a young Prince, bright as the day.

  “Where is my Beast?” cried Beauty.

  “I am he,” came the reply. “Thanks to you, dear Beauty, I am a Beast no more. I was doomed by a wicked fairy to take the shape of a horrible beast until of her own free will someone should come to love me and consent to marry me.”

  And so Beauty and her Prince went together into the lighted palace where they found her father, and were married in his presence that very day.

  As for the wicked sisters, they were turned into stone statues and forced to stand forever, one each side of the palace door, and watch their sister living happily with her Prince for the rest of her days.

  Cinderella

  There was once a man whose first wife had died, and so he married again. He did not pick so well the second time. His new wife was spiteful and bad-tempered and to make matters worse, she had two daughters who both took after her.