There was once an old king who, knowing that his end was nearing, called his son to him and begged him to take a wife.

"I would fain see you settled before I die," he said.

The son knew not what to do, for of all the maidens in his father's court there was none that had especial charm for him. He was thinking this over in the castle garden when an old woman suddenly stood before him. Wherever she came from, she was certainly there.

"Pluck the three lemons on the glass mountain and you will gain a wife such as next to none possesses," she said. As she appeared, so she disappeared. Her words, however, sank into the youth's heart, and leaving good-by for his father, he set out at once to find the glass mountain and the magic lemons.

Far over wooded hill and dale he journeyed but saw nothing even resembling a glass mountain. At last, tired out, he threw himself under a tree. As he did so, some ravens, croaking loudly, flew out of its top branches.

"Ah," thought the Prince, "these may direct me to where at least refreshment and rest may be obtained." And starting again, he followed in the direction that they had flown.

After three days and three nights he saw a castle before him, and full of rejoicing, approached it. It was entirely of lead and in the door stood Jezibaba leaning on a leaden staff.

"Haste from here, good youth," she said, "for nothing grows here, and when my son comes home he will devour you."

"Nay, old woman," said the Prince, "that must not be, for I come with respect for his power and knowledge, to seek his advice as to how I am to reach the glass mountain on which grows a wonderful lemon tree."

"Then I will help you," said Jezibaba, and hid the Prince behind a big broom. As she did so the castle shook, and peeping, the young man saw an awful being come up brandishing a leaden club.

"Yo, ho!" growled the ogre. "I smell human flesh on which to feast."

"Nay, my son," cajoled Jezibaba, "a youth is here, in truth, but only because he values your advice."

"In that case," responded the giant, "let him appear and I shall not hurt him."

The Prince came out, trembling, for he reached only to the giant's knees; but being brave of heart he courteously asked his question.

"Ah, ah!" returned the giant, looking around as if searching for him. "I don't know where it is, but if you go to my brother in the silver castle, he may direct you. Here, mother, give him some dumplings to last him on his journey."

The Prince bit into a dumpling placed before him and two of his teeth cracked, for the giant's food was of pure lead.

"I shall eat them later," he said, and placing three of them in his pockets, he thanked his hosts and bade them good-by.

Again over hill and dale he traveled, until wearied he sank as before under a thickly branched tree. From the top of this tree twelve ravens flew, and, remembering his former good fortune, he followed in the direction of their flight.

For three days and three nights he had journeyed when he saw before him a castle whose walls glistened in the sun. It was of the finest silver and at the gateway stood Jezibaba, leaning on a silver staff. He greeted her, saying, "I come from the leaden castle and bear a message for the owner here."

"In that case you are welcome, but that harm may not come to you before my son knows, let me hide you."

Soon after an ogre, more terrible than the first, appeared brandishing a silver club. And as he appeared the castle and ground were shaken.

"Yo-ho!" said the giant, "I smell human flesh for my meal to-day."

"Not so," spoke Jezibaba. "A youth is here, in truth, but not to be harmed. He bears a message to you from your brother of the leaden castle."

So the Prince was invited to come out of his hiding-place, which he did trembling, he seemed so insignificant beside the ogre. He showed the leaden dumplings in token that he spoke the truth and the ogre's face grew quite mild.

"I can't tell you where the glass mountain is," he answered to the query, "but my brother of the Golden Castle will surely know. Take him my greeting. Before you go, sit down with us to our dinner."

But the dinner consisted of silver dumplings, and excusing himself, the Prince placed three in his pocket and went on his way.

Over wooded hill, through valleys he journeyed, until weariness overcame him and he sank down under a tree. Twelve ravens flew from its top as he did so. The sight of them revived his strength and he followed in the direction they had taken.

After three days and three nights, before him shone a castle of gold so bright as to rival the sun's rays. Here Jezibaba, leaning on a golden staff, received him, and here he saw her son the ogre.

"If my brother of the silver castle has not harmed you, neither shall I harm you. What do you wish of me? Ah, the glass mountain! I know it well. Travel straight to the north and you will come to it. On its top you'll find the lemon tree with fruit so fragrant that it scents the air for miles around. If this fruit is meant for you, it'll drop into your hands of its own accord. If you need food or drink on your homeward trip, cut open a lemon and all of your needs will be satisfied. Now come and eat with us before you leave."

But the meal was all of dumplings of gold and, when the Prince saw them, he urged his haste and would only accept some for his journey.

He traveled straight to the north, and, after three days and three nights, he came to a barren spot in the center of which stood a hill of glass and on it a tree with lemons whose fragrance reached him long before he was near.

He tried to climb the slippery surface, but with every step he slid back a step.

Possibly were he lighter, he thought, he might finally succeed. So taking out a leaden dumpling he threw it away. To his delight, it stuck in the glass, making a step. He threw out another higher up and then the third, up to which he climbed. The silver dumplings followed, and then the gold, and, with their aid, he reached the mountain's top.

Sinking down on his knees under the lemon tree, he held out his hands and the lemons dropped into them one by one. As the last fell, the tree and glass mountain vanished, and how it happened he could not say, but he found himself well started toward home.

He had still a long distance to go, and hunger and thirst overcame him. Remembering the gold ogre's words, he took a lemon from his pocket and cut it open.

As he did so, a maiden so beautiful his eyes were dazzled, leaped out and making a courtesy inquired:

"Have you food for me? Have you drink for me? Have you fine dresses for me to wear?"

"Alas," answered the Prince sadly, "I have none of these."

The maiden courtesied again and instantly vanished.

"Ah, I know now what manner of fruit this is!" thought the Prince.

He could not bring the maiden back, so he sipped the lemon and found it satisfied his hunger and thirst marvelously. He was able to walk a long way now, which was good, for he saw neither food nor drink that day. But toward evening of the next day his throat felt so dry and his stomach so empty that he reluctantly cut open the second lemon.

A maiden more dazzlingly beautiful than the first jumped out of it, and, making a courtesy, inquired as the first had done:

"Have you food for me? Have you drink for me? Have you fine clothes for me to wear?"

"Alas," the youth sadly answered, "I have none of these."

The maiden courtesied and vanished as completely as the other had done.

He satisfied his hunger and thirst, but resolved that come what might, even though he had to crawl home for weakness, he would not cut the third lemon until he reached there.

Nor did he, for his strength lasted him until next day when he saw the walls of his city before him. Already outside he was recognized; the news spread, and the aged king sent out an escort to meet him and conduct him into his presence.

When the two had embraced, the Prince told his wondrous story. A banquet was prepared for the following day, to which many guests were invited. Costly raiment, too, was made, and brought into the palace walls.

When the guests had assembled conscious that some surprise was in store for them, the Prince cut the third and last lemon. A maiden of beauty so great that it surpassed the dazzling beauty of both of the others, leaped lightly out of it and, courtesying to the Prince, inquired: "Have you food for me? Have you drink for me? Have you fine clothing for me to wear?"

"I have all of these," said the Prince happily, presenting her with the costly gowns.

She put on the most elegant of these, and, so much did it still further enhance her beauty, that the Prince could not take his eyes from her as he led her into the Banquet Hall.

"Will you marry me?" he whispered. And when she smilingly nodded consent, he announced the betrothal amid congratulations and cheering. Shortly after the wedding feast followed.

The young people were very happy until the old king died and the Prince, having taken his place, had to lead an army to War. Before they parted, that harm might not come to his Queen, a platform for her was erected high in the air. No one could get on it unless the Queen let down a silken cord.

Now, an ambitious gypsy maid begged the Queen so hard to let her come up to comb and braid her hair, that the Queen consented. The gypsy talked and flattered as she combed, until the Queen fell asleep, and then the girl killed her by plunging a sharp pin into her head.

As the pin sank in, a snow-white dove flew out. Nothing remained of the Queen except her beautiful clothes, which the gypsy donned and sat down on the throne.

When the King returned, he thought his wife terribly changed and would have nothing to do with her. He mourned incessantly for what she once had been.

One day, as he walked sorrowing in the garden, a snow-white dove lit on his hand. He stroked its pretty feathers and as he did so, felt a pin head on the top of its head.

"What is this!" he exclaimed, and drew it forth.

No sooner had he done so, than his wife of old stood before him just as he had first seen her in her wondrous charm and beauty. She told him all that had occurred. The wicked gypsy was put to death and nothing further ever came to mar the happiness of the heaven married pair.