There was once a King who had three sons, three such haughty sons, indeed they were as bad as it was possible for princes to be. Their mother had died when the youngest was a baby, and every one had petted and spoilt them until they had become unbearable. At last the Queen of the Fairies decided that if they were to do any good in the world as Princes, she had better have a hand in their education. Tutors they had had until at last there was not to be found any one in the Kingdom who would undertake to teach them. The present one had given notice that he meant to leave, but the Fairy Queen stopped that.
Their last day (for some time) amongst mortals had come. Oh, it had been a terrible day for every one in the Palace! It seemed as if the Princes had gone mad, and they had ended up by breaking every piece of crockery in every bedroom, little dreaming what hard work it would mean for them in Fairyland.
Night came, the three Princes were in bed and fast asleep. Suddenly they awoke, hearing their names distinctly called. Each Prince sat up in bed, gazing, in something like fear, at a lovely little vision, the Queen of the Fairies herself. They were only conscious of a beautiful face, above a shimmer of gold, looking sadly at them. “Princes you are called, but, unless the Fairies themselves help you, you will never be worthy of the title. You must come with me to the ‘Palace of Truth,’” said the Queen.
“Only give us one more chance,” they all said together.
“You have had too many chances already; get up and put on your clothes.”
They obeyed in silence.
“Turn out your pockets.” They obediently pulled out string, knives, and other things.
“Stand up in front of me and look at me.” The three Princes fixed their eyes upon the Fairy’s face. She waved her golden wand gently to and fro, and, as she waved it over them, they gradually grew smaller and smaller, until at last they were as tiny as it is possible for human beings to become.
“Now I shall call my carriage, and you may drive with me.” She called, her voice sounding like the tinkle of a silver bell, and in answer to her call, there came through the open window a carriage made of mother-of-pearl and drawn by butterflies. The drive really was delightful, and when they found themselves rapidly going over the Black Forest, they looked at each other joyfully.
“We have never been allowed to go near the Black Forest,” said Prince Thomas.