That night Alween slept soundly in the loft of the little hut, but not before she had seen the old man tucked snugly into his bed and fast asleep. When she wakened, with the first rays of morning light, she thought, "I must dress quickly and get breakfast for the poor old man and feed the little cock and the little hen and the pretty brindled cow." But when she opened her eyes she seemed to be no longer in the loft of the little old hut in the wood. Instead of its dingy walls she saw before her a vast hall hung with cloth of gold and rich embroideries, and light and sunshine and flowers were everywhere. "I am surely dreaming," said Alween. Pushing aside the rich silken curtain of her bed, which also seemed a part of her dream, she thought to dress herself; but the poor ragged clothes she had put off the night before were nowhere to be found. In their place lay costly garments of satin and velvet.
"Oh, this is a dream, a dream!" thought the girl. She rubbed her eyes again and again as she gazed at the rich curtains and the costly garments and the splendid walls with their gay embroideries. She called aloud. She ran to the old man's bed to see if he were still asleep,—there in his place lay a stranger, young and handsome.
"Oh, where is the little old hut in the forest and where is the poor old man? Oh, where is the little cock and the little hen and the pretty brindled cow and where, oh, where am I?" she cried. At this the stranger wakened and, sitting up in bed, he called softly: "Do not run away. Alween! Alween! Come back! Come back! Do not be frightened. We are all here. I was the old man with the long white beard and my servants yonder were the cock, the hen and the brindled cow. You have saved our lives. You have set us free. You have delivered us from worse than death. I am a king's son, but I was bewitched by a wicked old fairy and forced, in the form of an old, old man, to live here in a hut in the forest all alone, except for my three servants, who were made to take the form of a cock, of a hen, and of a brindled cow. Here we were obliged to stay until some one came to us who showed love and kindness toward my animals as well as toward myself. You have saved us. You have set us free and this great palace and all within it is yours."
And Alween married the king's son and they were very happy together for many, many years; but her sisters were forced to live lives of hardship and poverty until their hearts had grown more kindly toward all living creatures.
THE SLEEPING PRINCESS.
Once, a long, long time ago, there lived a brave king and a beautiful queen. They ruled the land wisely; they loved each other dearly, and they would have been happy but for one thing—they had no children.
At last there came a day of joy—a day that brought a little princess to the palace. The baby girl grew strong and rosy and the time for her christening drew near. Then came twelve good fairy godmothers to eat from the king's twelve golden plates, to drink from his twelve golden goblets and to bring twelve good wishes to his little daughter.
Now thirteen fairies lived in the kingdom; but, as the king had only twelve golden plates and twelve golden goblets, the thirteenth fairy was not invited. This made her very angry and she cried, "I will go to the christening! I will see the king's daughter and the king shall rue the day on which he dared to slight me!"
They named the little princess Briar Rose. The first fairy godmother gave her beauty. The second gave happiness. "Wisdom is my gift," said number three. "Grace shall be hers," cried four. "I give her wit," said five. The sixth godmother gave sympathy. The seventh gave wealth. The eighth said, "The princess shall have courage and shall be strong and brave." Number nine cried, "Health is hers as long as ever she may live." The tenth gave youth. "The Briar Rose shall love her people and she shall rule gently and where she goes joy shall go too," said number eleven. The twelfth fairy opened her lips to wish long life, when, just at that moment, the thirteenth fairy, who had not been invited, burst into the room. She pushed the good fairy aside and, before anyone could stop her, she cried out in a loud angry voice, "The princess shall prick her finger with a spindle, on her fifteenth birthday, and shall die!" In a moment all was excitement. The jealous old fairy rushed from the palace, but the people dashed after her. "Drive the wicked witch from the kingdom! Burn every spindle in the land!" they cried.
The twelfth fairy could not take away the bad wish, she could only soften it. "The princess shall not die," she said, "but she shall fall into a deep sleep that shall last for a hundred years."