There was once a King whose wife died, leaving him with an only daughter, whom he dearly loved. The little Princess’s name was Velvet-Cheek, and she was so good, and bonnie, and kind-hearted that all her father’s subjects loved her. But as the King was generally engaged in transacting the business of the State, the poor little maiden had rather a lonely life, and often wished that she had a sister with whom she could play, and who would be a companion to her.
The King, hearing this, made up his mind to marry a middle-aged Countess, whom he had met at a neighbouring Court, who had one daughter, named Katherine, who was just a little younger than the Princess Velvet-Cheek, and who, he thought, would make a nice play-fellow for her.
He did so, and in one way the arrangement turned out very well, for the two girls loved one another dearly, and had everything in common, just as if they had really been sisters.
But in another way it turned out very badly, for the new Queen was a cruel and ambitious woman, and she wanted her own daughter to do as she had done, and make a grand marriage, and perhaps even become a Queen. And when she saw that Princess Velvet-Cheek was growing into a very beautiful young woman—more beautiful by far than her own daughter—she began to hate her, and to wish that in some way she would lose her good looks.
“For,” thought she, “what suitor will heed my daughter as long as her step-sister is by her side?”
Now, among the servants and retainers at her husband’s Castle there was an old Hen-wife, who, men said, was in league with the Evil Spirits of the air, and who was skilled in the knowledge of charms, and philtres, and love potions.
“Perhaps she could help me to do what I seek to do,” said the wicked Queen; and one night, when it was growing dusk, she wrapped a cloak round her, and set out to this old Hen-wife’s cottage.
“Send the lassie to me to-morrow morning ere she hath broken her fast,” replied the old Dame when she heard what her visitor had to say. “I will find out a way to mar her beauty.” And the wicked Queen went home content.
Next morning she went to the Princess’s room while she was dressing, and told her to go out before breakfast and get the eggs that the Hen-wife had gathered. “And see,” added she, “that thou dost not eat anything ere thou goest, for there is nothing that maketh the roses bloom on a young maiden’s cheeks like going out fasting in the fresh morning air.”
Princess Velvet-Cheek promised to do as she was bid, and go and fetch the eggs; but as she was not fond of going out of doors before she had had something to eat, and as, moreover, she suspected that her step-mother had some hidden reason for giving her such an unusual order, and she did not trust her step-mother’s hidden reasons, she slipped into the pantry as she went downstairs and helped herself to a large slice of cake. Then, after she had eaten it, she went straight to the Hen-wife’s cottage and asked for the eggs.
“Lift the lid of that pot there, your Highness, and you will see them,” said the old woman, pointing to the big pot standing in the corner in which she boiled her hens’ meat.
The Princess did so, and found a heap of eggs lying inside, which she lifted into her basket, while the old woman watched her with a curious smile.
“Go home to your Lady Mother, Hinny,” she said at last, “and tell her from me to keep the press door better snibbit.”
The Princess went home, and gave this extraordinary message to her step-mother, wondering to herself the while what it meant.
But if she did not understand the Hen-wife’s words, the Queen understood them only too well. For from them she gathered that the Princess had in some way prevented the old Witch’s spell doing what she intended it to do.
So next morning, when she sent her step-daughter once more on the same errand, she accompanied her to the door of the Castle herself, so that the poor girl had no chance of paying a visit to the pantry. But as she went along the road that led to the cottage, she felt so hungry that, when she passed a party of country-folk picking peas by the roadside, she asked them to give her a handful.
They did so, and she ate the peas; and so it came about that the same thing happened that had happened yesterday.
The Hen-wife sent her to look for the eggs; but she could work no spell upon her, because she had broken her fast. So the old woman bade her go home again and give the same message to the Queen.
The Queen was very angry when she heard it, for she felt that she was being outwitted by this slip of a girl, and she determined that, although she was not fond of getting up early, she would accompany her next day herself, and make sure that she had nothing to eat as she went.
So next morning she walked with the Princess to the Hen-wife’s cottage, and, as had happened twice before, the old woman sent the Royal maiden to lift the lid off the pot in the corner in order to get the eggs.
And the moment that the Princess did so off jumped her own pretty head, and on jumped that of a sheep.
Then the wicked Queen thanked the cruel old Witch for the service that she had rendered to her, and went home quite delighted with the success of her scheme; while the poor Princess picked up her own head and put it into her basket along with the eggs, and went home crying, keeping behind the hedge all the way, for she felt so ashamed of her sheep’s head that she was afraid that anyone saw her.
Now, as I told you, the Princess’s step-sister Katherine loved her dearly, and when she saw what a cruel deed had been wrought on her she was so angry that she declared that she would not remain another hour in the Castle. “For,” said she, “if my Lady Mother can order one such deed to be done, who can hinder her ordering another. So, methinks, ’twere better for us both to be where she cannot reach us.”
So she wrapped a fine shawl round her poor step-sister’s head, so that none could tell what it was like, and, putting the real head in the basket, she took her by the hand, and the two set out to seek their fortunes.
They walked and they walked, till they reached a splendid Palace, and when they came to it Katherine made as though she would go boldly up and knock at the door.
“I may perchance find work here,” she explained, “and earn enough money to keep us both in comfort.”
But the poor Princess would fain have pulled her back. “They will have nothing to do with thee,” she whispered, “when they see that thou hast a sister with a sheep’s head.”
“And who is to know that thou hast a sheep’s head?” asked Katherine. “If thou hold thy tongue, and keep the shawl well round thy face, and leave the rest to me.”
So up she went and knocked at the kitchen door, and when the housekeeper came to answer it she asked her if there was any work that she could give her to do. “For,” said she, “I have a sick sister, who is sore troubled with the migraine in her head, and I would fain find a quiet lodging for her where she could rest for the night.”
“Dost thou know aught of sickness?” asked the housekeeper, who was greatly struck by Katherine’s soft voice and gentle ways.
“Ay, do I,” replied Katherine, “for when one’s sister is troubled with the migraine, one has to learn to go about softly and not to make a noise.”
Now it chanced that the King’s eldest son, the Crown Prince, was lying ill in the Palace of a strange disease, which seemed to have touched his brain. For he was so restless, especially at nights, that someone had always to be with him to watch that he did himself no harm; and this state of things had gone on so long that everyone was quite worn out.
And the old housekeeper thought that it would be a good chance to get a quiet night’s sleep if this capable-looking stranger could be trusted to sit up with the Prince.
So she left her at the door, and went and consulted the King; and the King came out and spoke to Katherine and he, too, was so pleased with her voice and her appearance that he gave orders that a room should be set apart in the Castle for her sick sister and herself, and he promised that, if she would sit up that night with the Prince, and see that no harm befell him, she would have, as her reward, a bag of silver Pennies in the morning.
Katherine agreed to the bargain readily, “for,” thought she, “’twill always be a night’s lodging for the Princess; and, forbye that, a bag of silver Pennies is not to be got every day.”
So the Princess went to bed in the comfortable chamber that was set apart for her, and Katherine went to watch by the sick Prince.
He was a handsome, comely young man, who seemed to be in some sort of fever, for his brain was not quite clear, and he tossed and tumbled from side to side, gazing anxiously in front of him, and stretching out his hands as if he were in search of something.
And at twelve o’clock at night, just when Katherine thought that he was going to fall into a refreshing sleep, what was her horror to see him rise from his bed, dress himself hastily, open the door, and slip downstairs, as if he were going to look for somebody.
“There be something strange in this,” said the girl to herself. “Methinks I had better follow him and see what happens.”
So she stole out of the room after the Prince and followed him safely downstairs; and what was her astonishment to find that apparently he was going some distance, for he put on his hat and riding-coat, and, unlocking the door crossed the courtyard to the stable, and began to saddle his horse.
When he had done so, he led it out, and mounted, and, whistling softly to a hound which lay asleep in a corner, he prepared to ride away.
“I must go too, and see the end of this,” said Katherine bravely; “for methinks he is bewitched. These be not the actions of a sick man.”
So, just as the horse was about to start, she jumped lightly on its back, and settled herself comfortably behind its rider, all unnoticed by him.
Then this strange pair rode away through the woods, and, as they went, Katherine pulled the hazel-nuts that nodded in great clusters in her face. “For,” said she to herself, “Dear only knows where next I may get anything to eat.”
On and on they rode, till they left the greenwood far behind them and came out on an open moor. Soon they reached a hillock, and here the Prince drew rein, and, stooping down, cried in a strange, uncanny whisper, “Open, open, Green Hill, and let the Prince, and his horse, and his hound enter.”
“And,” whispered Katherine quickly, “let his lady enter behind him.”
Instantly, to her great astonishment, the top of the knowe seemed to tip up, leaving an aperture large enough for the little company to enter; then it closed gently behind them again.
They found themselves in a magnificent hall, brilliantly lighted by hundreds of candles stuck in sconces round the walls. In the centre of this apartment was a group of the most beautiful maidens that Katherine had ever seen, all dressed in shimmering ball-gowns, with wreaths of roses and violets in their hair. And there were sprightly gallants also, who had been treading a measure with these beauteous damsels to the strains of fairy music.
When the maidens saw the Prince, they ran to him, and led him away to join their revels. And at the touch of their hands all his languor seemed to disappear, and he became the gayest of all the throng, and laughed, and danced, and sang as if he had never known what it was to be ill.
As no one took any notice of Katherine, she sat down quietly on a bit of rock to watch what would befall. And as she watched, she became aware of a wee, wee bairnie, playing with a tiny wand, quite close to her feet.
He was a bonnie bit bairn, and she was just thinking of trying to make friends with him when one of the beautiful maidens passed, and, looking at the wand, said to her partner, in a meaning tone, “Three strokes of that wand would give Katherine’s sister back her pretty face.”
Here was news indeed! Katherine’s breath came thick and fast; and with trembling fingers she drew some of the nuts out of her pocket, and began rolling them carelessly towards the child. Apparently he did not get nuts very often, for he dropped his little wand at once, and stretched out his tiny hands to pick them up.
This was just what she wanted; and she slipped down from her seat to the ground, and drew a little nearer to him. Then she threw one or two more nuts in his way, and, when he was picking these up, she managed to lift the wand unobserved, and to hide it under her apron. After this, she crept cautiously back to her seat again; and not a moment too soon, for just then a cock crew, and at the sound the whole of the dancers vanished—all but the Prince, who ran to mount his horse, and was in such a hurry to be gone that Katherine had much ado to get up behind him before the hillock opened, and he rode swiftly into the outer world once more.
But she managed it, and, as they rode homewards in the grey morning light, she sat and cracked her nuts and ate them as fast as she could, for her adventures had made her marvellously hungry.
When she and her strange patient had once more reached the Castle, she just waited to see him go back to bed, and begin to toss and tumble as he had done before; then she ran to her step-sister’s room, and, finding her asleep, with her poor misshapen head lying peacefully on the pillow, she gave it three sharp little strokes with the fairy wand and, lo and behold! the sheep’s head vanished, and the Princess’s own pretty one took its place.
In the morning the King and the old housekeeper came to inquire what kind of night the Prince had had. Katherine answered that he had had a very good night; for she was very anxious to stay with him longer, for now that she had found out that the Elfin Maidens who dwelt in the Green Knowe had thrown a spell over him, she was resolved to find out also how that spell could be loosed.
And Fortune favoured her; for the King was so pleased to think that such a suitable nurse had been found for the Prince, and he was also so charmed with the looks of her step-sister, who came out of her chamber as bright and bonnie as in the old days, declaring that her migraine was all gone, and that she was now able to do any work that the housekeeper might find for her, that he begged Katherine to stay with his son a little longer, adding that if she would do so, he would give her a bag of gold Bonnet Pieces.
So Katherine agreed readily; and that night she watched by the Prince as she had done the night before. And at twelve o’clock he rose and dressed himself, and rode to the Fairy Knowe, just as she had expected him to do, for she was quite certain that the poor young man was bewitched, and not suffering from a fever, as everyone thought he was.
And you may be sure that she accompanied him, riding behind him all unnoticed, and filling her pockets with nuts as she rode.
When they reached the Fairy Knowe, he spoke the same words that he had spoken the night before. “Open, open, Green Hill, and let the young Prince in with his horse and his hound.” And when the Green Hill opened, Katherine added softly, “And his lady behind him.” So they all passed in together.
Katherine seated herself on a stone, and looked around her. The same revels were going on as yesternight, and the Prince was soon in the thick of them, dancing and laughing madly. The girl watched him narrowly, wondering if she would ever be able to find out what would restore him to his right mind; and, as she was watching him, the same little bairn who had played with the magic wand came up to her again. Only this time he was playing with a little bird.
And as he played, one of the dancers passed by, and, turning to her partner, said lightly, “Three bites of that birdie would lift the Prince’s sickness, and make him as well as he ever was.” Then she joined in the dance again, leaving Katherine sitting upright on her stone quivering with excitement.
If only she could get that bird the Prince might be cured! Very carefully she began to shake some nuts out of her pocket, and roll them across the floor towards the child.
He picked them up eagerly, letting go the bird as he did so; and, in an instant, Katherine caught it, and hid it under her apron.
In no long time after that the cock crew, and the Prince and she set out on their homeward ride. But this morning, instead of cracking nuts, she killed and plucked the bird, scattering its feathers all along the road; and the instant she gained the Prince’s room, and had seen him safely into bed, she put it on a spit in front of the fire and began to roast it.
And soon it began to frizzle, and get brown, and smell deliciously, and the Prince, in his bed in the corner, opened his eyes and murmured faintly, “How I wish I had a bite of that birdie.”
When she heard the words Katherine’s heart jumped for joy, and as soon as the bird was roasted she cut a little piece from its breast and popped it into the Prince’s mouth.
When he had eaten it his strength seemed to come back somewhat, for he rose on his elbow and looked at his nurse. “Oh! if I had but another bite of that birdie!” he said. And his voice was certainly stronger.
So Katherine gave him another piece, and when he had eaten that he sat right up in bed.
“Oh! if I had but a third bite o’ that birdie!” he cried. And now the colour was coming back into his face, and his eyes were shining.
This time Katherine brought him the whole of the rest of the bird; and he ate it up greedily, picking the bones quite clean with his fingers; and when it was finished, he sprang out of bed and dressed himself, and sat down by the fire.
And when the King came in the morning, with his old housekeeper at his back, to see how the Prince was, he found him sitting cracking nuts with his nurse, for Katherine had brought home quite a lot in her apron pocket.
The King was so delighted to find his son cured that he gave all the credit to Katherine Crackernuts, as he called her, and he gave orders at once that the Prince should marry her. “For,” said he, “a maiden who is such a good nurse is sure to make a good Queen.”
The Prince was quite willing to do as his father bade him; and, while they were talking together, his younger brother came in, leading Princess Velvet-Cheek by the hand, whose acquaintance he had made but yesterday, declaring that he had fallen in love with her, and that he wanted to marry her immediately.
So it all fell out very well, and everybody was quite pleased; and the two weddings took place at once, and, unless they be dead sinsyne, the young couples are living yet.