A certain king had a daughter who was beautiful above all belief, but withal so proud and haughty, that no suitor was good enough for her, and she not only turned back every one who came, but also made game of them all. Once the king proclaimed a great festival, and invited thereto from far and near all the marriageable young men. When they arrived they were all set in a row, according to their rank and standing: first the kings, then the princes, the dukes, the marquesses, the earls, and, last of all, the barons. Then the king’s daughter was led down the rows, but she found something to make game of it all. One was too fat. “The wine-tub!” said she. Another was too tall. “Long and lanky; has no grace,” she remarked. A third was too short and fat. “Too stout to have any wits,” said she. A fourth was too pale. “Like Death himself,” was her remark, and a fifth, who had a great deal of color, she called “a cockatoo.” The sixth was not straight enough, and him she called “a green log scorched in the oven!” And so she went on, nicknaming every one of the suitors, but she made particularly merry with a good young king whose chin had grown rather crooked. “Ha, ha!” laughed she, “he has a chin like a thrush’s beak”; and after that day he went by the name of Thrush-beard.

The old king, however, when he saw that his daughter did nothing but mock at and make sport of all the suitors who were collected, became very angry, and swore that she should take the first decent beggar for a husband who came to the gate.

A couple of days after this a player came beneath the windows to sing and earn some bounty if he could. As soon as the king saw him he ordered him to be called up, and presently he came into the room in all his dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before the king and princess, and when he had finished he begged for a slight recompense. The king said: “Thy song has pleased so much that I will give thee my daughter for a wife.”

The princess was terribly frightened, but the king said: “I have taken an oath, and mean to perform it, that I will give you to the first beggar.” All her remonstrances were in vain; the priest was called, and the princess was married in earnest to the player. When the ceremony was performed, the king said: “Now, it cannot be suffered that you should stop here with your husband, in my house; no! you must travel about the country with him.”

So the beggarman led her away, and she was forced to trudge along with him on foot. As they came to a large forest, she asked:

The echo replied:

“Ah, silly,” said she,

Next they came to a meadow, and she asked:

“To whom belongs this meadow so green?”

“To King Thrush-beard,” was again the reply.

Then they came to a great city, and she asked:

“To whom does this beautiful town belong?”

“To King Thrush-beard,” said one.

“Ah, what a simpleton was I that I did not marry him when I had the chance!” exclaimed the poor princess.

“Come,” broke in the player, “it does not please me, I can tell you, that you are always wishing for another husband; am I not good enough for you?”

By and by they came to a very small hut, and she said: “Ah, heavens, to whom can this miserable, wretched hovel belong?”

The player replied: “That is my house, where we shall live together.”

The princess was obliged to stoop to get in at the door, and when she was inside, she asked: “Where are the servants?” “What servants?” exclaimed her husband. “You must yourself do all that you want done. Now make a fire and put on some water, that you may cook my dinner, for I am quite tired.”

The princess, however, understood nothing about making fires or cooking, and the beggar had to set to work himself, and as soon as they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed. In the morning the husband woke up his wife very early, that she might set the house to rights, and for a couple of days they lived on in this way, and made an end of their store. Then the husband said: “Wife, we must not go on in this way any longer, stopping here, doing nothing; you must weave some baskets.” So he went out and cut some osiers and brought them home, but when his wife attempted to bend them the hard twigs wounded her hands and made them bleed. “I see that won’t suit,” said her husband; “you had better spin, perhaps that will do better.”

So she sat down to spin, but the harsh thread cut her tender fingers very badly, so that the blood flowed freely. “Do you see,” said the husband, “how you are spoiling your work? I made a bad bargain in taking you! Now I must try and make a business in pots and earthen vessels; you shall sit in the market and sell them.”

“Oh, if anybody out of my father’s dominions should come and see me in the market selling pots,” thought the princess to herself, “how they would laugh at me!”

However, all her excuses were in vain; she must either do that or die of hunger.

The first time all went well, for the people bought of the princess, because she was so pretty-looking, and not only gave her what she asked, but some even laid down their money and left the pots behind. On her earnings this day, they lived for some time as long as they lasted; and then the husband purchased a fresh stock of pots. With these she placed her stall at a corner of the market, offering them for sale. All at once a drunken hussar came plunging down the street on his horse, and rode right into the midst of her earthenware, and shattered it into a thousand pieces. The accident, as well it might, set her a-weeping, and in her trouble, not knowing what to do, she ran home crying: “Ah, what will become of me; what will my good man say?” When she had told her husband, he cried out: “Who ever would have thought of sitting at the corner of the market to sell earthenware? but well I see you are not accustomed to any ordinary work. There, leave off crying; I have been to the king’s palace, and asked if they were not in want of a kitchen-maid; and they have agreed to take you, and there you will live free of cost.”

Now the princess became a kitchen-maid, and was obliged to do as the cook bade her, and wash up the dirty things. Then she put a jar into each of her pockets, and in them she took home what was left of what fell to her share of the good things, and of these she and her husband made their meals. Not many days afterward it happened that the wedding of the king’s eldest son was to be celebrated, and the poor wife placed herself near the door of the saloon to look on. As the lamps were lit and guests more and more beautiful entered the room, and all dressed most sumptuously, she reflected on her fate with a saddened heart, and repented of the pride and haughtiness which had so humiliated and impoverished her. Every now and then the servants threw her out of the dishes morsels of rich delicacies which they carried in, whose fragrant smells increased her regrets, and these pieces she put into her pockets to carry home. Presently the king entered, clothed in silk and velvet, and having a golden chain round his neck. As soon as he saw the beautiful maiden standing at the door, he seized her by the hand and would dance with her, but she, terribly frightened, refused; for she saw it was King Thrush-beard, who had wooed her, and whom she had laughed at. Her struggles were of no avail; he drew her into the ball-room, and there tore off the band to which the pots were attached, so that they fell down and the soup ran over the floor, while the pieces of meat, etc., skipped about in all directions. When the fine folks saw this sight they burst into one universal shout of laughter and derision, and the poor girl was so ashamed that she wished herself a thousand fathoms below the earth. She ran out at the door and would have escaped; but on the steps she met a man, who took her back, and when she looked at him, lo! it was King Thrush-beard again. He spoke kindly to her, and said: “Be not afraid; I and the musician, who dwelt with you in the wretched hut, are one; for love of you I have acted thus; and the hussar who rode in among the pots was also myself. All this has taken place in order to humble your haughty disposition, and to punish you for your pride, which led you to mock me.”

At these words she wept bitterly, and said: “I am not worthy to be your wife, I have done you so great a wrong.” But he replied: “Those evil days are passed; we will now celebrate our marriage.”

Immediately after came the bridesmaids, and put on her the most magnificent dresses; and then her father and his whole court arrived, and wished her happiness on her wedding-day; and now commenced her true joy as queen of the country of King Thrush-beard.