The King lived all the year in this palace, although he had another fine house in his capital city; for he hated business, and liked the idle life he led with his Queen and all the beautiful ladies and gentlemen who formed his court. He never troubled himself about anything; he did not even hunt, nor fish, but sat the whole day listening to the gossip of his fools and jesters, and writing very silly poetry. Then he would read it aloud to all the beautiful ladies and gentlemen, who threw up their hands and said: “How clever!” But behind his back they laughed at him.
One day, when the little boys were playing, the head gardener came by and gave each of them a fine branch of ripe cherries, so they stopped their games and sat on the balustrade to eat the fruit.
Suddenly a poor old beggar man passed by outside the garden and looked up at them; he was tattered and torn and he had no shoes on his feet; his face was lined with fatigue and misery.
“I am very hungry,” said the beggar, addressing the Prince, “and I have got nothing to eat. Please, young gentleman, get me something from the palace, for, if I have to go any further without food, I am really afraid I shall die.”
“What? I go in and fetch you things from the palace? A pretty idea! I tell you I am the King’s son. I never heard of such impudence.”
“You may be the King’s son,” said the poor old man; “but I am starving, for all that.”
For answer the Prince leaned down and struck the beggar with the end of his cherry-branch.
The gardener’s son had eaten every one of his cherries but three, and he held them out to the old man. “I have nothing else to give,” he said, “but you may have these.”
The beggar ate all three cherries and laid the stones in a row on the ground; he chose one, and, when he had polished it on his ragged coat, he gave it back to the gardener’s son.