Sleeping Beauty

Long ago there lived a king and a queen who said every day, "Ah, if only we had a child!" But no child came.

Then one day, as the queen sat bathing, a frog crept out of the water onto the bank and said to her, "Your wish will come true. Before a year has passed, you will have a daughter."

And so it happened. The queen had a little girl so beautiful that the king could hardly hold in his joy, and he ordered a great feast. He invited his relatives and friends, and he invited the Wise Women too, so that they might look kindly on the child. There were thirteen such women in his kingdom, but the king had only twelve golden plates for them to eat from, so one of them had to be left uninvited.

The feast was grand, and when it was nearly over, the Wise Women stepped forward one by one to give the baby their gifts. One gave her goodness, another beauty, another riches — everything in the world worth wishing for.

But just as the eleventh had spoken, the thirteenth Wise Woman came striding in. No one had invited her, and she meant to have her revenge. Without a greeting to anyone, she cried out, "When the princess turns fifteen, she will prick her finger on a spindle — and fall down dead!" Then she turned and walked straight out of the hall.

Everyone stood frozen with fear. But the twelfth Wise Woman had not yet given her gift, and though she could not undo the curse, she could soften it. "She will not die," she said. "Instead, she will fall into a sleep that lasts a hundred years."

The king, wanting above all to keep his daughter safe, commanded that every spindle in the kingdom be burned. And as the girl grew, all the Wise Women's gifts came true in her — she was so lovely, so kind, so clever and gentle, that everyone who met her loved her at once.

Now it happened that on the very day she turned fifteen, the king and queen were away from the castle, and the girl was left alone. She wandered wherever she liked, peeking into rooms she had never seen, until she came to an old tower. She climbed the narrow winding stairs and reached a small door with a rusty key in the lock. When she turned the key, the door swung open, and there in a tiny room sat an old woman, spinning flax with a spindle.

"Good day, old mother," said the princess. "What are you doing?"

"I'm spinning," said the old woman, nodding her head.

"What a funny thing, hopping about like that," said the princess, and she reached for the spindle, wanting to try it herself. But the moment she touched it, the curse came true — she pricked her finger.

The instant she felt the prick, she sank down onto a bed that stood nearby and fell into a deep sleep. And the sleep spread through the whole castle. The king and queen, who had just come home and stepped into the hall, fell asleep along with all their court. The horses slept in their stalls, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, even the flies on the walls. The fire on the hearth grew still and dozed, the roast stopped sizzling, and the cook — who had just reached out to cuff the kitchen boy for some small mistake — let him go and fell asleep too. The wind died down, and outside, not a single leaf stirred on the trees.

Around the castle, a hedge of thorns began to grow. Every year it grew higher, until at last it wrapped around the whole castle and rose above it, hiding everything from view — not even the flag on the roof could be seen. But word of the sleeping princess spread through the land, and from time to time, princes came to try to cut through the hedge and reach her. None could manage it. The thorns clung together as though they had hands, and the young men who tried could not get through, and one by one they turned back.

After many, many years, another prince came to that country. An old man told him of the thorn hedge, and of the castle hidden behind it, where a beautiful princess named Briar-Rose had slept for a hundred years, along with the king and queen and all their court. The old man had heard from his own grandfather how many princes had tried to break through the thorns and been turned back. But the young prince said, "I'm not afraid. I will go and see this Briar-Rose for myself." And no matter how the old man tried to warn him away, he would not be swayed.

Now, as it happened, the hundred years were just ending — this was the very day Briar-Rose was meant to wake. When the prince came near the thorn hedge, he found it covered in great, beautiful flowers, which parted gently to let him through, then closed again softly behind him. In the castle yard he saw the horses and hunting dogs lying fast asleep, and on the roof, pigeons with their heads tucked beneath their wings. Inside, flies slept on the walls; the cook in the kitchen still had his hand raised as if to catch the boy; the maid sat frozen before a hen she'd been about to pluck.

He walked on, and in the great hall he found the whole court asleep, and by the throne, the king and queen themselves. Everything was so still that he could hear his own breath.

At last he reached the old tower and opened the little door where Briar-Rose lay sleeping. She was so beautiful he could not look away. He knelt down and gently kissed her.

The moment his lips touched hers, Briar-Rose opened her eyes and woke, and looked up at him so sweetly that his heart nearly burst.

Together they went down through the castle, and as they passed, the king woke, and the queen, and all the court, and everyone looked at one another in wonder. The horses stood and shook themselves; the dogs jumped up, wagging their tails; the pigeons lifted their heads and flew off into the open sky; the flies crawled on along the walls; the fire flared up and finished cooking the meal; the roast began to sizzle again; the cook gave the kitchen boy the cuff he'd been waiting a hundred years to deliver; and the maid calmly finished plucking her hen.

Then the wedding of the prince and Briar-Rose was celebrated with great joy and splendor, and they lived happily together for the rest of their days.