Tattercoats (2)

In a great Palace by the sea there once dwelt a very rich old lord, who
had neither wife nor children living, only one little granddaughter,
whose face he had never seen in all her life. He hated her bitterly,
because at her birth his favourite daughter died; and when the old nurse
brought him the baby, he swore, that it might live or die as it liked,
but he would never look on its face as long as it lived.

So he turned his back, and sat by his window looking out over the sea,
and weeping great tears for his lost daughter, till his white hair and
beard grew down over his shoulders and twined round his chair and crept
into the chinks of the floor, and his tears, dropping on to the
window-ledge, wore a channel through the stone, and ran away in a little
river to the great sea. And, meanwhile, his granddaughter grew up with
no one to care for her, or clothe her; only the old nurse, when no one
was by, would sometimes give her a dish of scraps from the kitchen, or a
torn petticoat from the rag-bag; while the other servants of the Palace
would drive her from the house with blows and mocking words, calling
her "Tattercoats," and pointing at her bare feet and shoulders, till she
ran away crying, to hide among the bushes.

And so she grew up, with little to eat or wear, spending her days in the
fields and lanes, with only the gooseherd for a companion, who would
play to her so merrily on his little pipe, when she was hungry, or cold,
or tired, that she forgot all her troubles, and fell to dancing, with
his flock of noisy geese for partners.

But, one day, people told each other that the King was travelling
through the land, and in the town near by was to give a great ball, to
all the lords and ladies of the country, when the Prince, his only son,
was to choose a wife.

One of the royal invitations was brought to the Palace by the sea, and
the servants carried it up to the old lord who still sat by his window,
wrapped in his long white hair and weeping into the little river that
was fed by his tears.

But when he heard the King's command, he dried his eyes and bade them
bring shears to cut him loose, for his hair had bound him a fast
prisoner and he could not move. And then he sent them for rich clothes,
and jewels, which he put on; and he ordered them to saddle the white
horse, with gold and silk, that he might ride to meet the King.

Meanwhile Tattercoats had heard of the great doings in the town, and she
sat by the kitchen-door weeping because she could not go to see them.
And when the old nurse heard her crying she went to the Lord of the
Palace, and begged him to take his granddaughter with him to the King's
ball.

But he only frowned and told her to be silent, while the servants
laughed and said: "Tattercoats is happy in her rags, playing with the
gooseherd, let her be--it is all she is fit for."

A second, and then a third time, the old nurse begged him to let the
girl go with him, but she was answered only by black looks and fierce
words, till she was driven from the room by the jeering servants, with
blows and mocking words.

Weeping over her ill-success, the old nurse went to look for
Tattercoats; but the girl had been turned from the door by the cook, and
had run away to tell her friend the gooseherd, how unhappy she was
because she could not go to the King's ball.

But when the gooseherd had listened to her story, he bade her cheer up,
and proposed that they should go together into the town to see the King,
and all the fine things; and when she looked sorrowfully down at her
rags and bare feet, he played a note or two upon his pipe, so gay and
merry, that she forgot all about her tears and her troubles, and before
she well knew, the herdboy had taken her by the hand, and she, and he,
and the geese before them, were dancing down the road towards the town.

Before they had gone very far, a handsome young man, splendidly dressed,
rode up and stopped to ask the way to the castle where the King was
staying; and when he found that they too were going thither, he got off
his horse and walked beside them along the road.

The herdboy pulled out his pipe and played a low sweet tune, and the
stranger looked again and again at Tattercoats' lovely face till he fell
deeply in love with her, and begged her to marry him.

But she only laughed, and shook her golden head.

"You would be finely put to shame if you had a goosegirl for your wife!"
said she; "go and ask one of the great ladies you will see to-night at
the King's ball, and do not flout poor Tattercoats."

But the more she refused him the sweeter the pipe played, and the deeper
the young man fell in love; till at last he begged her, as a proof of
his sincerity, to come that night at twelve to the King's ball, just as
she was, with the herdboy and his geese, and in her torn petticoat and
bare feet, and he would dance with her before the King and the lords and
ladies, and present her to them all, as his dear and honoured bride.

So when night came, and the hall in the castle was full of light and
music, and the lords and ladies were dancing before the King, just as
the clock struck twelve, Tattercoats and the herdboy, followed by his
flock of noisy geese, entered at the great doors, and walked straight up
the ball-room, while on either side the ladies whispered, the lords
laughed, and the King seated at the far end stared in amazement.

But as they came in front of the throne, Tattercoats' lover rose from
beside the King, and came to meet her. Taking her by the hand, he kissed
her thrice before them all, and turned to the King.

"Father!" he said, for it was the Prince himself, "I have made my
choice, and here is my bride, the loveliest girl in all the land, and
the sweetest as well!"

Before he had finished speaking, the herdboy put his pipe to his lips
and played a few low notes that sounded like a bird singing far off in
the woods; and as he played, Tattercoats' rags were changed to shining
robes sewn with glittering jewels, a golden crown lay upon her golden
hair, and the flock of geese behind her, became a crowd of dainty pages,
bearing her long train.

And as the King rose to greet her as his daughter, the trumpets sounded
loudly in honour of the new Princess, and the people outside in the
street said to each other:

"Ah! now the Prince has chosen for his wife the loveliest girl in all
the land!"

But the gooseherd was never seen again, and no one knew what became of
him; while the old lord went home once more to his Palace by the sea,
for he could not stay at Court, when he had sworn never to look on his
granddaughter's face.

So there he still sits by his window, if you could only see him, as you
some day may, weeping more bitterly than ever, as he looks out over the
sea.