The Sultan’s servants rushed at the little red rooster and caught him.
‘Aha!’ cried the exultant Sultan. ‘We’ve got you now. You’ve crowed your very last doodle-doo.’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Sultana,’ said the little red rooster. But the Sultan took the little red rooster by the neck, stuffed him down the bacm d="sek of his pantaloons and then sat down on him hard, very hard indeed.
The little red rooster wasn’t at all frightened of being obsquatulated. He knew what to do about that. He wasn’t worried. He simply said to himself: ‘Come, my full-up stomach. Come, my full-up stomach, let out all the bees and sting the Sultan’s bottom.’
And were those bees angry? I should say so. And did they all sting the great and mighty Sultan’s bottom? I should say so. There was plenty of room in those capacious pantaloons for every bee to sting wherever he wanted. And remember, that great and mighty Sultan had a very large, very round bottom, probably the biggest bottom the world had ever seen!
Did the great fat Sultan jump up and down? I should say so. Did he screech and yowl and whimper? I should say so. And did the little red rooster hop out of those great pantaloons and fly off safe and sound? Of course he did.
‘Aiee! Ow! Youch! Oosh, oosh, ooh!’ cried the Sultan, as he sat with his stinging bottom dunked in a bath of ice-cold water.
‘Cockadoodle-doo, Mr Sultana!’ cried the little red rooster. ‘Now, will you let me have back my diamond button?’
‘All right, all right,’ said the Sultan. ‘I give in. Anything, anything to get you out of my sight. Take him up to my room and give him his confounded diamond button. It’s in my treasure chest.’
So the Sultan’s servants took the little red rooster up to the Sultan’s bedchamber, and gave him the diamond button from out of the Sultan’s treasure chest.
‘Now go,’ they cried. ‘Fly away! Shoo! You’ve got what you came for. Go, before you get us into any more trouble.’
‘I’m going. I’m going,’ replied the little red rooster, the diamond button in his beak. But he was in no hurry to go, for something had caught his eye. He could not believe his luck. The Sultan’s treasure chest! The servants had left it open! So he flew away only as far as the window ledge, and he waited there till all the servants had left. Then he flew down and hopped across the room and up on to the treasure chest. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, pearls, sapphires – the finest jewels in the entire world.
‘Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound,’ said the little red rooster to himself. ‘Come, my empty stomach. Come, my empty stomach and gobble down all the Sultan’s jewels.’
And that’s just what he did. He gobbled down all the Sultan’s jewels, every last one of them.
Then out he flew, out of the window and out over the paut he Sulace walls, which was not at all easy, because he was rather heavy by now. He had to waddle all the rest of the way back home, rattling as he went.
As he neared the farm, he happened to meet up with his friends again, the wriggling worms and the singing cicadas and the burrowing beetles. So, of course, he just had to tell them all about his great adventures in the Sultan’s palace. He was only halfway through his story when the poor old woman, who had been looking high and low for him, spied him at last. She came scuttling along the farm track.
‘Where have you been, Little Red Rooster?’ she cried. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Ah, mistress mine,’ replied the little red rooster. ‘Never in your life will you ever have to worry again. And never will we have to go hungry again, either. Look what I have for you.’
And he said to himself: ‘Come, my full-up stomach. Come, my full-up stomach and give up all your jewels.’
Out they poured on to the ground, all of them, all the Sultan’s jewels, until there was a great sparkling pile of them at the poor old woman’s feet. Only, she wasn’t poor any more, was she?
It took the breath right out of her. She sat down with a bump, still trying to believe her eyes.
‘Goodness me!’ she cried. ‘Goodness me!’
And she was good too, goodness itself. Do you know what she did? She gave those jewels to all her poor friends in the countryside round about, just enough for each of them so that no one had too much. She kept for herself all she needed, and no more. But, of course, the little red rooster got to keep his diamond button.
Just you try and take it from him!
The Three Heads in the Well
Retold by Susan Gates
Illustrated by Sue Heap
ONCE UPON A time, in the east of this land, ruled the King of Colchester. Everything in his life seemed as sweet as honey. All his enemies had been well and truly conquered. His kingdom was peaceful; his subjects were loyal. He himself was brave and strong. But, in the middle of his happiness, disaster struck. His Queen died and he was left alone to care coe for their only daughter – a princess famed far and wide for her smiling face and her kind and generous nature.
The King of Colchester looked about him for a new wife. He found a rich widow. Her riches were the only thing to recommend her, for she was a sour-faced, scowling woman, boiling with envy and spite. This widow too, had an only daughter. And the daughter was like the mother. Both were as mean-spirited as the King’s daughter was generous. As sly and scheming as the King’s daughter was honest and open-hearted.
Servants gossiped in the castle kitchens. They whispered in corridors. ‘His Majesty is making a serious mistake,’ they said. ‘He’ll live to regret it.’ Some high-ranking nobles even dared to warn him to his face. But the King waved them all angrily away. He would listen to no one. He married the wealthy widow out of greed for her riches. And that was his only reason. For he didn’t love her – not one jot.
No sooner were they in the castle than the King’s new wife and her daughter got busy. They began to make trouble and cause upsets and bad feeling. They were very good at it. Rumours flew everywhere, like flocks of crows. They were particularly jealous of the young Princess because everyone loved her.
‘We must get rid of her!’ hissed mother to daughter.
With dark plots, sly schemes and whispering campaigns, they poisoned the King’s mind against his own daughter. The Princess saw that, day by day, her father’s heart grew colder towards her. But she, poor innocent girl, was useless at plotting. She was powerless to stop the wicked pair.
Soon, the court became an unfriendly place. Cold looks were cast in her direction. Her own father did not have a single kind thing to say about her. Sick at heart, she decided to leave to seek her fortune in the wide world. The King’s new wife and step-daughter agreed that this was an excellent idea.
The Princess met her father the King as he strolled in his rose garden, sniffing the roses. She said, her eyes brimming with tears, ‘Father, may I have your consent to go and seek my fortune?’ He didn’t say one warm word to persuade her to stay. He gave his consent, then waved her coldly away.
And so the Princess was driven away from her home. Even though she’d got her wish, the step-mother was mean-minded to the last. She gave the Princess only four things to take on her journey – a canvas bag, some brown bread, some mousetrap cheese and a bottle of beer. A swineherd’s daughter would have been treated more generously than this! But, even though these were the stingiest gifts imaginable, the Princess thanked her step-mother and set out on her journey.
She walked through valleys and meadows and dark, tangled woods. At last, when she was almost fainting from weariness and misery she saw an ol sh fad man. He was perched on a rock at the mouth of a cave.
‘Good morrow, fair maiden,’ he greeted her. ‘And where are you off to this fine day?’
‘I’m going to seek my fortune, aged father,’ she answered him.
‘And what have you got in that canvas bag?’
‘Bread and cheese,’ said the Princess, ‘and a bottle of beer. Are you hungry or thirsty? You are welcome to share it.’
So the old man ate and drank his fill. Afte
rwards, he thanked her with all his heart and gave her some good words of advice. ‘Soon,’ he said, ‘you will come to a thick, thorny hedge. It will seem impassable. But take this wand, strike the hedge three times and say, “Pray hedge, let me through!” The hedge will part to let you through. A little further on you will come to a well. Sit down at the edge of it and three Golden Heads will appear to you. When they speak, you must be sure to do what they tell you.’
The Princess promised to follow the old man’s instructions. She said, ‘Farewell,’ and set out once again on her journey.
Soon she came to the hedge. It was thick and high. It bristled with cruel spiky thorns. It seemed impossible to get through. But the Princess remembered the old man’s words. She took the wand, struck the hedge three times and, with each blow, said, ‘Pray hedge, let me through.’
Instantly, the cruel thorns drew in, like a cat’s claws. The hedge parted to make her a doorway. She was able to pass through safely without even a tiny rip in her dress.
A little further on the Princess came to a well. She sat down on the edge of it, as the old man had told her. To tell the truth, she was happy to rest her weary bones. She had been walking, poor girl, since daybreak. And Princesses have very tender feet!
But no sooner had she sat down, than up, from the dark depths of the well, popped a Golden Head. In a voice clear and sweet as the well water, it sang:
‘Wash me, comb me,
And lay me down softly,
And lay me on a bank to dry,
That I may look pretty,
When someone passes by.’
The Princess spread her skirts and lifted the Golden Head into her leade hap. Taking a silver comb, she gently combed its hair, humming as she did so. Then she set the Head on a primrose bank beside her to dry.
Then a second Golden Head rose up and a third! Both sang the same request:
‘Wash me, comb me,
And lay me down softly,
And lay me on a bank to dry,
That I may look pretty,
When someone passes by.’
And the Princess did them the same kind service. She took each in her lap and combed their golden locks with the silver comb until they were smooth and free of tangles. Then she opened her canvas bag and ate her dinner, while the three Golden Heads lay beside her, drying their hair in the sunshine.
As they snuggled side by side among the primroses, the Heads had a secret conversation. They whispered into each other’s ears: ‘How shall we repay this maid, who has used us so kindly?’
The first Head said, ‘I will make her even more beautiful, so she may charm any Prince she pleases.’
The second said, ‘I will perfume her body and breath, so she smells sweeter than the sweetest flowers.’
The third said, ‘I will give her the good fortune to marry the most powerful King in the land.’
When the Princess had finished her bread and cheese, the three Heads said, ‘Pray, place us back in the water.’ She did so. They sank to the bottom of the well in a swirl of bubbles.
The Princess went on her way. She had not gone far before she heard a hunting horn, ‘Ta ra! Ta ra!’ She saw a young King out riding in the park with his nobles. They were a merry crowd. Their rich clothes glowed with beautiful colours. She hurried to hide behind an oak tree, ashamed of her rags. For, I forgot to say, her spiteful stepmother had allowed her to leave the castle in only the meanest, drabbest clothes. Worse than a kitchen maid would wear!
But it was too late, the young King had spotted her. He came towards her. He saw her beautiful face, smelled her fragrant, flowery breath and, instantly, he fell head-over-heels in love. He soon melted her heart, with compliments and kisses. Joyfully, they went back to his palace where his court ladies dressed her from top to toe in splendid, rich clothes.
As soon as she told him that she was the King of Colchester’s daughter, he cried, ‘Make ready my royal cadyg in thhariot. We must pay your father a visit!’
The King of Colchester was amazed when the royal chariot, all crusted with gold and jewels, came dashing up to his castle gates. He was even more astonished when he learned that his own daughter was inside it. And that the mightiest King in the land wanted her to be his Queen. There was much making-up and hugging and rejoicing. The marriage feast lasted for days and days! Eventually the young King and his new Queen went back to their own kingdom. The royal chariot was piled high with the treasures the King of Colchester had given his daughter as her dowry.
So everyone was happy at the Princess’s good fortune. Except, of course, for the step-mother and her sour-faced daughter. They didn’t dance one single step at the wedding. They didn’t let one single sugared almond or sip of sweet wine pass their lips. Their mouths looked as if they’d been sucking on lemons. Their jealousy and spite carried on swelling and swelling inside them. Until they almost burst at the seams with envy! Especially as the Princess was now the highest Queen in the land and vastly more important and wealthy than either of them.
Finally the daughter said to her mother, ‘Mother, I have made up my mind! Put out my finest clothes. Pack me up some delicious food, such as fine white bread and sugar plums and lots of other sweetmeats. Oh, and don’t forget a large bottle of your best Malaga Sack as I am bound to get thirsty on my journey.’
‘What journey are you talking about, daughter?’ enquired the mother.
‘I have made up my mind to follow the same road as my step-sister,’ declared the daughter. ‘I am going to seek my fortune. And I know I shall find it for I’m sure I deserve it more than she!’
In her richest clothes and almost bent double under the weight of all her provisions, the sister set out on her journey.
Soon, puffing and panting, she reached the cave where the old man sat on a rock.
‘Young woman,’ he said, ‘you carry a heavy burden. What do you have in that large bag you’re carrying?’
‘Mind your own business!’ replied the sister, nastily. ‘I have good food in here but it’s nothing for you to be troubled with.’
‘From the look of that bag you have more than enough for one. You have enough for a whole army! I am very old; I barely eat more than a sparrow. So won’t you spare me a bite of food or a drop of drink?’
‘Not unless it chokes you!’ replied the sister, rudely. ‘Not a drop or a bite or even a sniff of this good food will you get from me, old man!’
The old man’s face grew grim. He frowned. ‘Then evil fortune attend you!’ he said, as she went on her way.
Soon, the thorny hedge blocked her path. She thought, How can I pass through there?
Then she imagined she spied a gap. She plunged into the hedge. But its branches closed round her like a thousand spiky arms. She struggled and fought to escape, cursing the hedge with every spare breath. At last, the hedge let her through. But by now, she was in a sorry state. All her fine clothes were in tatters and blood trickled down where the thorns had pricked her.
She looked round for water to wash in. Then she saw the well. She sat down at its edge and washed and began to unpack all her food, meaning to enjoy a good feast.
A Golden Head plopped up to the top of the well.
‘Wash me, comb me,’ it sang,
‘And lay me down softly,
And lay me on a bank to dry,
That I may look pretty,
When someone passes by.’
The sister jumped up, furious that her dinner had been interrupted.
‘Hang you! Take that for your washing!’ she cried and, whack! she hit the Golden Head a dreadful blow with her bottle of Malaga Sack.
The second and third Heads came up but she treated them no better than the first. Whack, whack! She swiped at them with her bottle of Malaga Sack, then sat down to tuck into her sugar plums.
So, while the sister ate, the three Heads bobbed about like corks in the water, whispering amongst themselves. They said, ‘How shall we repay this maid, who has used us so cruelly?’
&nbs
p; The first said, ‘Let her have a mangy face, all covered in spots and boils.’
The second said, ‘Let her breath become even more stinking, so that people run away when she approaches.’
The third said, ‘Let her find a husband. Let him not be a prince but only a poor and humble country cobbler.’
The sister hardly noticed when the Golden Heads sank back into the well. She finished her dinner and wr dh="ent on her way.
She came to a town. It was bustling with people because it was market day. As she turned into the market square a few people caught a whiff of her breath.
They looked about them. ‘Phew! What is that terrible pong?’ they asked each other, holding their noses. It smelled worse than a million muck heaps.
Then, as she walked nearer, everyone smelled it. It filled the market square like a stinking cloud. People rushed to escape. They were in such a panic they uptipped the stalls and trampled each other underfoot! Soon the market square was completely empty – except for one person. The sister was relieved to see him, even though he was only a poor country cobbler.
Now, not long before, this same cobbler had mended the sandals of an old hermit. The hermit had no money to pay him. So instead he gave the cobbler a box of ointment for clearing up mangy faces and a bottle of spirits for making foul breath sweet again. This cobbler felt sorry for the unfortunate sister afflicted with stinks and spots. Holding his nose, he approached her. He could see that she was a fine lady, even though her clothes were in tatters. ‘Who are you?’ he asked her.
‘I am,’ said she, ‘the King of Colchester’s step-daughter.’
Magic Beans: A Handful of Fairytales From the Storybag Page 15
