Then everybody woke up suddenly, and rubbing their eyes, stared at each other and the country. The country was worth staring at. Never before had been seen such harvest fields with their rich golden corn; never before had the fruit trees borne such splendid fruit. The vineyards were heavy with grapes; and every garden, palace garden and cottage garden, was filled with magnificent vegetables and beautiful flowers. The country was as rich as it possibly could be.
And the King? Well, the King had his sleep and his dream as well as the others, and when he woke up and rubbed his eyes he was not a bit like the same King.
He called his courtiers and his people together, and in their presence he journeyed to the Blue Mountain and thence to the Yellow Mountain, and he climbed its steeps and descended to the other side. And when he came to the fields of nettles he took off his shoes and stockings and bared his hands, and then he stepped into the cruel weeds, singing all the time.
And he made not seven plaits but seventy, and he could make no more because he was exhausted.
“Thus,” he said to his people, “do I try to punish myself.”
From that day forth he turned into a good king, and taxed his people only justly. And by degrees he paid off his debts and got back his crown and sceptre and family jewels, and so was respectable and presentable once more.
And the water in the lake? Well, it turned again into ordinary water. And Ellaleen? I suppose you think she married the King and lived happily ever after; but she did nothing of the sort.
“He Stepped into the Cruel Weeds.”