So he opened the gate and went across the field.
At the edge of the woods a peasant was plowing.
“Good morning, peasant,” said the Emperor, “That must be an Emperor bird singing in the forest, because it sings so sweetly.”
“No, my lord,” said the peasant, taking off his cap, “that is a blackbird.”
“You may call it so,” said the Emperor; “but it is an Emperor bird if I say so, because I am always right. It is as large as a swan, and its feathers are like shining gold.”
“No, my lord,” said the peasant, “it is small and black.”
Just then the blackbird lighted on a post in the fence and began to sing. It was easy to see that the peasant was right.
“There must surely be something wrong,” said the Emperor, “because I never make a mistake.”
“But, my lord, the Emperor can make a mistake. Every one does that. Your attendants may say that you are always right because they wish to please you. Perhaps they even praise what you do, when it is wrong and foolish.”
“I can never believe that,” said the Emperor.