by Will Moses
“My name is Snow White,” she said.
“What has brought you to our home?” asked another.
And so Snow White told her pitiful story: how the evil queen had ordered her to be taken to the woods and killed, how the kindhearted huntsman had let her run into the forest, where by luck, she found their little cottage.
The dwarfs said to Snow White, “Dear child, if you help take care of us and our cottage while we are away working in the mine, you may stay and we will give you whatever you need.”
“Oh, yes!” said Snow White. She liked these little men, and she had no other place to go.
So the days passed with Snow White taking very good care of the seven little dwarfs, cleaning their cottage and mending their clothes. Each evening, when they came back from their gold mine, she had a good supper waiting for them. And each morning, when they went back to the mine and she gave them their lunch pails, one or the other of them would remind her, “Soon, Snow White, the old queen will discover that you are alive. Be careful and never let anyone in.”
And before too long, the evil queen did find out that Snow White was alive. She stood before the mirror and asked:
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
who in the land is the fairest of all?”
and the mirror answered:
“Queen, your beauty is rare.
But over the mountain where the seven
dwarfs dwell,
Snow White is alive, her beauty without
compare.
Snow White, my queen, is the fairest in
the land.”
The queen knew the mirror spoke only the truth! The huntsman had deceived her. Snow White lived. But the clever queen had a plan. She crafted some delicious-looking poison apples. Apples so deadly just one bite would kill, but so beautiful no one could resist tasting them.
The next day the queen dressed as an old peddler woman and traveled to the seven dwarfs’ cottage. She called through the door, “I have delicious, plump, red apples for sale.”
“Oh, I love apples,” said Snow White. “But I am not allowed to let strangers come into the cottage.”
“Very well,” cackled the crafty queen. “I must be on my way to sell my tasty apples elsewhere. But since you are such a good child, please let me give you one.”
Not wishing to be rude, Snow White opened the window, and the queen handed her the irresistible apple. Snow White took a bite and fell to the floor, dead.
When the dwarfs came home and found Snow White collapsed on the floor, they tried to revive her, but finally they had to accept that she was dead. They placed her in a glass casket and carried her to a special spot in the forest, where one of the dwarfs stood guard ever after. Amazingly, although years passed, Snow White appeared to be as healthy as the day she took a bite from the apple, her cheeks rosy and her hair glossy black.
Then one sunny spring day, a handsome prince traveling through the forest came upon the odd spectacle: a beautiful young woman, lying in a glass coffin guarded by a dwarf. The prince knew he must do something! The seven dwarfs agreed to carry her back to his kingdom, hoping that, at last, someone might be able to help their friend. But, as fate would have it, as they were carrying Snow White away, one of them tripped over a root, sending the glass coffin to the ground. The crash caused the piece of poison apple, lodged all this time in Snow White’s throat, to come free. Snow White sat up, wide-eyed and alive.
The prince, who had fallen in love with the beautiful girl, took her hand and asked Snow White if she would be his wife. She agreed, for she knew she would come to love this prince who had saved her. Before the sun set, they rode off to the prince’s castle, where they married and, to the dwarfs’ delight, lived happily ever after.
As for the evil old queen? When the mirror told her that Snow White yet lived, she flew into a rage and, drawing a hot poker from the fire, struck her reflection in the mirror and vanished in a plume of black, greasy smoke, never to be seen again.
PUSS IN BOOTS
On a high hill where the wind blew strong, there lived a miller, his three sons, a donkey, and a cat. All lived in an old grist mill, where they worked grinding grain for the villagers. When the old miller died, he left to each boy something of value: to his oldest, the mill; to the second, the donkey; and to the third, the cat.
The first son was quite happy with his inheritance, and the second son was not unhappy. After all, he could ride the donkey and set out on an adventure. The third son liked the cat well enough, but felt somehow he had been cheated. After all, he’d loved his father and worked as hard as his brothers, so he was not pleased with the cat, and he told the cat just that!
The cat remembered how the boy had once saved him from a pack of wild dogs.
“So,” the cat said, “do as I tell you and, just as you once helped me, I will help you.”
The miller’s son was surprised to hear the cat speak, but thought, If this cat can talk, I guess I should listen.
“Long Whiskers,” he said, “tell me what to do, and I will do it.”
“First thing,” said the cat, “we must go to the boot-maker and have him make me some fine leather boots. And I will need a good hat with a feather.”
Properly attired, Puss in Boots said, “Now we must go to your brother’s mill and get a sack and a few scoops of grain.”
So off they went, the cat boldly strutting along in his new boots and hat.
The king who ruled at that time very much enjoyed rabbit dinners, but just then rabbits were in short supply, so the king had none, and this made him sad. Puss in Boots, however, knew of a spot in the brambly woods where fat rabbits lived! He laid out the sack with a bit of grain spilling out, tied a string to the sack, and waited, well hidden.
Before long, three rabbits came bounding along and took the bait. Clever Puss yanked the string and cinched the sack shut around the rabbits, slung the sack over his shoulders, and walked jauntily down the valley to the king’s castle.
“Stop! Where are you going?” yelled a guard.
“To see the king,” the cat replied.
As Puss in Boots had such a smart appearance and brought rabbits for the king, he was shown to the king’s chamber. “Your majesty,” he said with a low bow. “My master, the Marquis of Carabas, has commanded me to present these fine rabbits to you.”
The king was overjoyed.
From that day on, once or twice a week, the cat would bring the king fresh game for his table, compliments of the Marquis of Carabas. And with each visit he told the king a tall tale of the marquis’s many adventures. Of course, the marquis was in truth the miller’s son! And while the tales greatly amused the king, every one of them was made up by clever Puss in Boots.
One fine day when the cat knew the king was going to take a carriage ride with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, Puss in Boots said to his master, “Your fortunes are about to change. Quickly, go to the bend in the river and take a bath.”
The false Marquis of Carabas did as he was told without knowing why, only knowing the cat had been right so far. As the marquis splashed about in the middle of the stream, the king and his daughter drove by and Puss in Boots cried out, “Help, help, my lord, the Marquis of Carabas, is drowning!”
Seeing the cat who had brought him fresh rabbits, the king shouted to his guards, “Save the marquis!” As the guards waded in to save him, Puss in Boots again spun a tale to the king: rogues had attacked the marquis while he bathed in the river and run off with his fine clothes!
The king ordered his fastest guard to race to the castle and bring back one of the king’s own suits. With that done, the Marquis of Carabas was now dressed handsomely, appearing every bit the fine gentleman the king believed him to be. Naturally, the king asked him to ride along. So, with a wink from the cat, the marquis clambered into the king’s coach.
Now, as young people sometimes do, the handsome Marquis of Carabas and the king’s beautiful daughter found each other to be most appealing, and soon they had fallen in love. Pleased his plan was working so well, the cat ran on ahead of the king’s coach, where he soon found country folk mowing the fields.
“Good country folk,” he cried. “The king is coming down this road! When he asks who owns these lush fields, tell him the Marquis of Carabas. The fate of young love depends on your answer!”
The farmers thought it a good prank, and when the king drove by, just as Puss had predicted, the king called out, “Who owns this fine land?”
All answered, “For as far as the eye can see, the land is owned by the Marquis of Carabas.”
All along the king’s path Puss ran, keeping just ahead of the king, asking everyone he saw—plump milkmaids, singing goatherds—to recite the same story, and they all did. The king was growing very impressed by the Marquis of Carabas!
In a bucolic glen, Puss in Boots came to a handsome castle, owned by a very rich and clever ogre. In fact, this ogre was the true owner of the lands that the king now traveled.
The crafty Puss knew this ogre and his tricks. So, when he was shown in to see him, the cat gave a deep bow. “Monsieur,” he said, “your reputation as a great sorcerer has traveled far, and as I was traveling through your country, I could not help but stop and pay my respects to you and show my profound appreciation for your great talents.”
The ogre blushed a little.
Puss continued, “I have been told that you can even change yourself into different creatures, large creatures, such as, lions, bears, and the like! Is this true?”
“Yes, it is all true,” replied the ogre smugly. “And to convince you, my good cat, I shall become a lion!” And he turned into a lion, frightening Puss in Boots up onto the mantel! The ogre resumed his natural appearance, and the cat climbed down.
“Oh, Monsieur Ogre, that was most amazing!” said Puss. “I have also been informed that you can turn yourself into the smallest of creatures, such as a mouse or rat. But after seeing you become a lion, I don’t believe this is possible.” With a smirk, the ogre turned himself into a mouse and began to scurry about the place, but when he scurried too close to the cat, Puss in Boots pounced and gobbled the mouse up! No sooner had he accomplished this than he heard the sound of the king’s coach trundling over the castle bridge.
The cat ran to the courtyard and greeted the king’s coach. With a sweep of his hat he said, “Welcome, Majesty, to the castle of the Marquis of Carabas.”
“Good heavens,” cried the king. “The Marquis of Carabas’s castle is as fine as his lands are rich!”
And with that the false Marquis of Carabas and his cat escorted the king, his daughter, and their entourage into the castle, where a spectacular banquet was soon laid before them. And when the dancing and dining were over, the king said, “Now all I could possibly wish for is that the marquis would marry my daughter, the princess.”
Well, this was happy news to both the marquis and the princess, and just at sunset the next day, the young couple exchanged their wedding vows, destined to live happily ever after. As for our Lord Puss in Boots, as he is now known, he settled into his life at the castle serving his friend and master, the Marquis of Carabas, and only chasing rats and mice for the fun of it.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
There was once a rich merchant who made his fortune with a small fleet of ships trading goods from around the world. The merchant had three lovely daughters, but everyone agreed that the youngest was the smartest, the kindest, and the most beautiful. Her father and the townspeople called her Beauty.
Good fortune can turn to bad, and it did for the merchant. One ship was sunk in a storm; another was lost, probably to pirates. The merchant’s money was all gone. Forced to sell his city home, he moved to a farm in the country, much to the distress of his older daughters. But Beauty, devoted to her father, took up country life with spirit.
She rose with the rooster’s crow, tended the garden, and worked in the fields. She positively glowed from the country life, which only made her more attractive. Her sisters just grew lazier, grumbling to their father about their hard lives or mocking their younger sister. “She looks like a cow and acts like a cow,” they’d laugh.
Bad fortune can also turn to good, and one of the merchant’s ships finally sailed into port, not lost to pirates after all. The older sisters were delighted; they’d have their riches back. When the merchant left for the city to recover his losses, he asked Beauty what she wanted. “A rose,” she answered. “None grow here, and I miss the sweet roses that once grew outside my bedroom window.”
But in the city the merchant discovered it was too late for him to recover his losses! He was forced to head back home to the country, no wealthier. At least there he would have the comfort of a warm fire and good food, as well as the pleasure of seeing his children. He took the shorter mountain route to get home quickly.
But when snow began falling, he lost his way. He was cold and hungry, and he saw wolves following him. He had begun to fear his luck had run out, when he saw a glow in the distance. Approaching it, he discovered a castle there in the middle of the woods. No one seemed to be at home, so, tired and wet, he stabled his horse, warmed himself by the fire, partook of the castle’s food, and finally found a warm bed where he could sleep the night through.
In the morning, there before him was a new suit of clothes. An elegant breakfast had been set out for him. “Surely the house must be run by fairies!” he thought. Leaving to find his horse, he found the snow had disappeared. In its place was an arbor of sweet red roses, and he plucked one for Beauty.
Suddenly, the old man heard a great roar, and a hideous beast stormed toward him. “I save your life, welcome you to my home, and now you steal my rose, which I value above all else!”
“Oh, my lord, I only took a rose as a gift for my daughter,” the merchant said, trembling. “It was the one thing she asked me to bring her.”
“My name is Beast, not m’lord, but I will let you go on the condition that your daughter comes here to serve me. But she must come willingly!”
Never, thought the merchant, but saying yes would give him time.
“If she does not come, merchant, you yourself must return to serve me.”
When the merchant arrived home at the farm, he broke down in tears. He gave Beauty the rose and told her the Beast’s demand. But Beauty did not shed a tear. “Of course, Father. I shall give myself up to the Beast, happy knowing I saved your life.”
“No, no, no,” the merchant said. “I will not hear of it.” But the selfish sisters persuaded him.
And in the morning Beauty and her father set out, the horse remembering the way. They found the castle, where a table was set for two, with a hearty meal already on it! They were eating hungrily when the Beast appeared in the candlelight. “Have you come of your own free will?” he asked Beauty.
“Yes,” she answered.
The merchant cried bitter tears as he left, but that night in her chamber Beauty dreamed a beautiful dream. An angel came to her and said, “Your kindness and good deeds shall be rewarded.”
Next morning, Beauty gathered her courage and began to explore the castle. She found a door with a sign that said “Beauty’s Apartment.” In it she found books, a harp, music, a window that looked out on the garden, and beautiful gowns and finery of all kinds. She opened a large book and read: “Welcome, Beauty. Banish all fear. You are queen and mistress here. Speak your wishes and they will be granted.”
“I have only one wish: to see that my old father is well.” Suddenly, in a glass ball upon the table, she saw a view of her father arriving home.
That night at a lavish supper, the Beast came from the shadows. “May I join you, Beauty?” he asked in a growl. Beauty, who did not want to seem rude, said yes.
“Beauty, please be at home in the castle, for everything here is yours, and I shall be distressed if you are ever unhappy.”
“Oh, Beast, you are so kind,” said Beauty.
“Still I am terrible to look at.”
“When I consider your kindnesses, Beast, your appearance is forgotten.”
Time passed in idyllic pleasure for Beauty. She had wonderful books and lovely music, and each night the Beast would join her for a candlelit supper and they would talk and talk. She began to look forward eagerly to his visits. Then one night, the Beast asked her if she would marry him.
“I love you, Beast,” she told him, “but only as my friend.”
The Beast hung his head. “Then,” he said, “I will be content with that.”
One night when Beauty looked at the glass ball, she saw that her father was ill and dying. She asked the Beast if she might leave to visit her father. “Before he dies, Beast, I must let him know that I am well and you are treating me kindly. I promise to come back.”
The Beast sighed. “In the morning you will be at your father’s farm.” He put a ring on her finger. “Take this off when you wish to return.”
True to the Beast’s word, Beauty awoke in her own room at her family’s farm. With Beauty at his side, the merchant started to recover his health. But when the sisters heard of Beauty’s splendid life, they began to envy her, and so they taunted her. “If you leave, Father will certainly die.” So Beauty stayed longer than she had intended.
