Now, everything went happily until the lovely Princess was eighteen years old, and then something fearful happened. A terrible and cruel war broke out between the King, her father, and a neighbouring Emperor, and alas! the King got the worst of it. He lost every battle from the very beginning; town after town fell into the hands of the enemy; the happy villages were burnt down; the crops and the cattle were seized, and the King and his daughter sat in the Castle with only a few soldiers to guard them, expecting every moment the arrival of the Emperor’s victorious army.
They had no money—all their treasures had been sold to pay for the horrid war. The old men and women were miserable in the almshouses; the babies cried in their homes; the horses and birds and fishes had been set free, for there was no money with which to buy them food, and there was misery over all the land. The poor Princess had no pets except one that had been left behind in the aquarium—the Frog that was no ordinary frog, and that had a limp when he hopped, and whose croak was rather more musical than the croak of other frogs. Well, it came at last, the Emperor’s conquering army, and it swept all before it; the Castle was taken, and the King and the Princess had only just time to escape by the back door, and through the farmyard by the pool, near the horse-pond, and so on to the woods, where they hid themselves from their enemies. The Frog was with them—yes, in a safety-matchbox, in the Princess’s pocket. It was certainly not comfortable there, but he preferred it to being left behind in a castle filled with strangers. The next day found the King and his daughter miles away from their old home, seated hand in hand upon a bank, hungry and miserable. No one would have taken them for a King and a Princess, for he wore an ordinary felt hat, instead of a crown, and she wore nothing on her head but her own beautiful golden hair, which was more beautiful and brilliant than the finest gold. Well, they went all that day without anything to eat but berries, and at night they slept in the woods again; and so they journeyed on, more miserable and hungry. The Frog, too, was not very happy, and having the cramp in his lame foot, kicked somewhat vigorously in his matchbox, so that the Princess heard him, and pitied him, and determined to let him go when they came to some water.
Now, they had not gone much farther before they came to a pond, and here, I think, comes the wonderful part of the story. The Princess took the Frog from the matchbox and held it for a moment in her hand, and as she did so, she burst into tears, and her tears fell upon the little creature.
“Alas!” she cried, “you are the last of my poor pets I loved so dearly.”
Then there suddenly came a flash of light, and a noise like terrible thunder, and the King, in his fright, fell on his back, while the Princess opened her dark blue eyes in wonder. There stood before her a handsome Prince, who smiled and held out his hands to her.
“The spell of a wicked fairy is broken,” he said. “The Frog you took from the pool was no ordinary frog—in reality, he was an enchanted Prince; your love for, and the tears that fell on him, have restored him to his own form again.”
“Come,” he continued, “we three will go over those blue hills together, to my lovely country. And you shall be my Princess, and we will rule the land together.”