Sleeping Beauty

Long ago a King and Queen said every day, “If only we had a child!” but none came. As the Queen sat bathing, a frog crept out of the water and said, “Your wish will be granted. Before a year is out you will have a daughter.”

It happened as the frog said, and the little girl was so lovely that the King hardly knew what to do for joy, and he ordered a great feast. He invited the Wise Women along with family and friends, so they would be kind to the child. There were thirteen in the kingdom, but only twelve golden plates, so one was left at home.

When the feast ended, the Wise Women gave the baby their magic gifts: goodness, beauty, riches, everything anyone could wish for.

Eleven had spoken when the thirteenth walked in. She had come to pay them back for leaving her out, and without greeting anyone she cried, “In her fifteenth year the King’s daughter shall prick herself on a spindle and fall down dead.” Then she turned and left.

Everyone stood frozen. The twelfth had not yet given her gift, and though she could not undo the curse, she could soften it. “It shall not be death,” she said, “but a sleep of a hundred years.”

The King had every spindle in the kingdom burned. The Wise Women’s gifts came true, every one of them, for the girl grew so beautiful, kind and wise that everyone who saw her loved her.

On the day she turned fifteen, the King and Queen were away and she was alone in the castle. She wandered where she pleased until she came to an old tower. She climbed the winding stair to a little door with a rusty key in the lock, turned it, and inside sat an old woman with her spindle, spinning her flax.

“Good day, old mother,” said the princess. “What are you doing there?”

“I am spinning,” said the old woman, and nodded.

“What is this thing that hops about so merrily?” said the girl, and took the spindle to try it herself. The moment she touched it the magic words came true, and the point pricked her finger.

She sank onto the bed and fell fast asleep, and the sleep spread through the castle. The King and Queen, just home again, fell asleep in the great hall with all their court. The horses slept in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof. Even the fire grew still, the roast stopped sizzling, and the cook, who had been reaching for the kitchen boy because he had done something wrong, stopped with his hand in the air and slept.

Then a hedge of thorns grew up around the castle, higher every year, until it hid even the flag on the roof. The story of the sleeping princess spread through the land, and people called her Sleeping Beauty. Now and then kings’ sons tried to break through, but the thorns held fast as if they had hands, and not one of the young men came home again.

After long years another king’s son came to that country. An old man told him of the castle behind the hedge, where Sleeping Beauty had slept a hundred years. “I am not afraid,” the prince said. “I will go and see Sleeping Beauty.” The old man begged him to stay, but he would not listen.

The hundred years had just run out. As the prince came near, the hedge was nothing but beautiful flowers, which opened of themselves, let him pass unharmed, and closed behind him again. He crossed a courtyard of sleeping horses and hounds, passed the cook still reaching for the kitchen boy, and found the court asleep in the great hall beside the King and Queen.

The castle was so quiet he could hear his own breath. At last he opened the little door in the tower, and there lay Sleeping Beauty, so lovely he could not look away. He bent down and kissed her, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

They went down together, and the King and Queen and the whole court woke and stared at one another. The horses shook themselves, the hounds wagged their tails, the pigeons flew off over the fields, the fire flickered up, the roast began to sizzle again, and the cook boxed the kitchen boy’s ear.

Then the king’s son and Sleeping Beauty were married with great splendor, and they lived happily to the end of their days.