The Frog King

In olden times, when wishing still did some good, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so lovely that the sun itself, which has seen so much, marvelled every time it shone on her face. Near the castle lay a great dark forest, and in the forest, under an old linden tree, was a well. On hot days the princess would sit at its cool edge and play with her favourite thing in the world: a golden ball, which she tossed up and caught again.

One day the ball slipped past her hands, bounced on the ground and rolled straight into the well, a well so deep that no bottom could be seen. She began to cry louder and louder, until a voice asked what the matter was. It was a frog, poking its fat, ugly head out of the water. “I will fetch your ball,” said the frog, “but what will you give me?” She offered her clothes, her pearls and jewels, even the golden crown she wore. The frog wanted none of it. “If you will love me and let me be your companion and playmate, sit beside you at your table, eat from your little golden plate, drink from your little cup and sleep in your little bed. Then I will bring back your ball.”

“Yes, yes, I promise you everything,” she said, while thinking to herself, What nonsense this silly frog talks! He sits in the water croaking with the other frogs; he could never be anyone’s companion. The frog dived down and came back with the ball in his mouth. The princess snatched it up and ran home, while the frog called after her in vain, “Wait! Take me with you! I can’t run as fast as you!”

The next day, as she sat at dinner with the king and the court, something came creeping up the marble staircase, splish, splash, and knocked at the door. “Youngest daughter of the king, open the door for me!” She opened it, saw the frog, and slammed the door shut, her heart pounding. When the king asked what was wrong, she told him everything. “What you have promised, you must keep,” said the king. “Go and let him in.”

So the frog hopped in, and the king made her lift him onto the table. He ate happily from her golden plate, while every bite stuck in her throat. Then he announced that he was tired and wished to be carried to her silken bed. The princess began to weep; she was afraid of the cold frog and could not bear the thought of him in her clean, pretty bed. But the king grew angry: “You should not despise someone who helped you when you were in trouble.” So she picked the frog up with two fingers, carried him upstairs and set him in a corner.

When she lay down, the frog crept up and said, “I am tired too, and want to sleep as well as you. Lift me up, or I will tell your father.” At that the princess flew into a rage. She seized the frog and threw him with all her strength against the wall. “Now you will have your rest, you horrid frog!”

But what fell to the floor was no frog at all. It was a king’s son with kind and beautiful eyes. A wicked witch had bewitched him, he explained, and no one but the princess could have freed him from the well. By her father’s wish he became her dear companion and husband.

The next morning a carriage arrived drawn by eight white horses with white ostrich plumes and golden harness, and on the back stood the young king’s servant, Faithful Henry. When his master had been turned into a frog, Henry had grieved so much that he had three iron bands fastened around his heart to keep it from bursting with sorrow. As they drove toward the prince’s kingdom, there came a loud crack. “Henry, the carriage is breaking!” “No, master, it is not the carriage. It is a band from around my heart, which lay in such pain while you sat in the well as a frog.” Twice more the cracking came, and each time it was another iron band springing loose from Faithful Henry’s heart, because his master was free and happy.