The narrator of tales relates that, once upon a time, there lived a king who had nine daughters. And because there was no son, he made a vow that he would condemn his wife to death if their next child were not a boy.
Time came and went until another child was born to the king. And, although this one, also, was a little girl, the queen, with the careful assistance of her faithful nurse, concealed the fact, and the child was supposed to be a boy. The king rejoiced greatly, giving thanks to Allah, because he believed that a son had come to him, who could inherit the kingdom.
But after a number of years had gone by, and the time came when the child was to be enrolled in the royal army corps, the queen knew that her deceit would be discovered. She shut herself up in her room and wept bitterly.
The child was greatly disturbed at her grief, and [[98]]begged to come in and comfort her. “My mother,” it said, “why do you weep so? What is there that should trouble you?”
“Ai, my child!” the queen answered, “of all who weep there is no one who has sadder cause than I. And the cause of my sorrow is this: When you were a little baby it was told the king, your father—who greatly desired a son to inherit his throne—that you were a boy. He has believed it until this day. Now he will learn the truth, and I shall lose my life.”
But the child—being very wise as well as loving—comforted her mother with these words: “Do not fear, dearest mother! I will go to my father, the king, and ask him to delay this ceremony for another year.”
The next morning, therefore, the child, weeping bitterly, went into her father’s presence and kissed his hand.
“Why do you cry, my son?” asked the father. “Tears are for girls. They should not be seen upon the face of the king’s son.”
“O! my father! I am still little. Yet you are going to make me one in the royal army. Therefore do I weep.”
“Well, well, my son,” said the king, “dry your tears! We will postpone this matter until your next birthday.” [[99]]