“Ah, no!” he cried. “You are very charming, but you are not my Princess.”
He cut the rind of a second lemon, and as he did so the second Princess took form before him. He shook his head at her mute entreaty for a cup of water, and she too disappeared. Then he cut the rind of the third lemon, and lo, his own Princess was once more in his arms!
Great was the joy and relief of the old Sultan when he heard from the Prince that this beautiful girl was his real bride, but he listened with a frown of anger as she told them all that had happened when her lover left her by the fountain. He ordered the negress to be immediately brought before him, and, regarding her very sternly, asked her what she would think a fitting punishment for an affront offered to the future wife of his dear son.
“Nothing less than death,” declared the negress, “and death by burning. Let the offender be cast into your Majesty’s oven, and the great door shut.”
“Madam, you have passed sentence on yourself,” replied the Sultan dryly, and, shrieking with terror, the negress was led away.
But the sweet Princess would not let her suffer.
“She is but a poor ignorant woman,” she said, “and it must be sad to be so ugly. Set her free, I entreat you, and let her go. This is the boon I ask you for my wedding gift.”
The Sultan could not refuse his new daughter’s first request, and the Prince regarded her fondly.
“I saw you were fair as morning, and white as snow,” he murmured, “and now I know that you are sweet as an angel.”
And though the years to come brought him trouble and sorrow as well as joy, he was indeed blest. Beloved of all, his Princess wielded a gentle sway, and he never saw the fruit of a lemon without sending a grateful thought to Spring for the magic gifts by which he had fared so well.