The sun was shining, and the birds were singing, but the queen was sad as she bathed in her lake.
"Oh, how dearly I wish for a child," she sighed, and a tear fell from her eye into the mouth of a frog who was perched on a water-lily leaf.
"By this time next year you shall have a daughter!" he croaked. Then he dived into the weeds and was gone.
His words came true. The king and queen became the proud, happy parents of a beautiful baby daughter.
"The roses are just beginning to bloom," said the king. "Let’s call her Rose, and she shall have the most magnificent christening ever known."
"We must invite all the most important people," said the queen.
"And the thirteen fairies," added the king.
"My love, remember. The law says that fairies must eat from golden plates. We only have twelve golden plates."
"Well, twelve fairies are enough," decided the king.
After the grand feast, the guests danced and sang until it was time for the fairies to present their gifts to the royal baby.
The first gave her Beauty, the second Grace of Movement. The others in turn gave her a Sweet Voice, Kindness, Health, Gentleness, Truth, Goodness, Friendship, Happiness, a Sense of Humor, and... But, before the twelfth fairy could speak, the ballroom suddenly turned dark, the wind howled, an owl hooted and everyone shivered.
Standing beside the cradle was a small bent figure dressed all in black.. Her green eyes gleamed in a white wrinkled face.
"You did not invite me," sneered the thirteenth fairy, "but here I am, and here is my gift. On her fifteenth birthday the princess will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning-wheel and she will die!"
With these words she vanished. The wind subsided, the owl grew silent, warmth and light returned. In her cradle the tiny princess cried softly and a gloom fell on everyone.
Then the twelfth fairy come forward and spoke quietly: "Rose will prick her finger, but she will not die. Instead she and all within the palace will fall asleep, until one day a prince’s kiss will wake her."
Immediately the king ordered that every spinning-wheel in the kingdom should be destroyed. Huge bonfires were built in every market square, and a thousand spinning-wheels were burned on them.
The years flew by and Rose grew up happily with the fairies’ gifts. She was loved by all who knew her. Then, on her fifteenth birthday, her parents gave her a splendid party.
Shortly before the palace clock struck six, Rose said, "Let’s play hide-and-seek." So all the young guests hid in cupboards, under huge tables, and behind heavy curtains. Rose tip-toed up a winding staircase to a turret at the top of a tower where nobody had been for years.
It was very dark and musty and Rose was beginning to wish she had not hidden there when she saw a dusty door. She wrote ‘Rose’ in the dust and then pushed it, gently. It swung slowly open into a tiny room.
"Come in, my dear," whispered a strange voice. And there in the gloom, Rose saw an old woman, dressed in black, sitting before a large wheel. The room grew darker, the wind blew outside, and an owl hooted. Rose shivered.
"What’s that?" she asked.
"Why, a spinning-wheel, my dear." The old woman turned her pale, wrinkled face with its gleaming green eyes towards the Princess. "I’m making the cloth for a sheet. Come closer.... see how the spindle dances as the thread runs round it."
Rose was fascinated, she had never seen a spinning-wheel before. She held out her hand to touch the bobbing spindle. "It hurts. Oh, it hurts," she cried. She had pricked her finger - and immediately she fell into a deep sleep.
Outside, the wind subsided, the owl grew silent, warmth and light returned. The old woman had vanished.
Sitting on their thrones, the king and queen suddenly stopped in the middle of a conversation and fell asleep. The young guests slept in their hiding places, their fingers on lips that were about to say ‘shhhhh’, and the seeker slept standing up, his hands firmly over his eyes.
The clock stopped ticking. A fly hung poised in mid-air. The cook’s cat slept outside a mouse-hole, and the frightened mouse slept inside. The cook fell asleep with her hand raised ready to slap the naughty kitchen boy. The poor boy slept, still unsmacked across her knee, while the goblet he had broken lay in pieces on the floor.
The dog, who had been dozing, slept still more soundly. The spiders were still and silent in their webs in the turret room. Days and then weeks passed. Months turned into years and yet more years.
After ten years, a hedge of briar roses had grown up all around the palace. After twenty, the palace was hidden completely. Ninety years passed and the thicket of roses, weeds and thistles had grown into a dense forest.
The story of the Sleeping Beauty spread throughout the world, and was passed down in every royal family. Many brave princes tried to break through the forest to find her, but none succeeded.... until, one day, a handsome prince arrived from a far-off land. Though cruelly scratched by the thorns and brambles he went on hacking his way through the thicket with his sword until he grew exhausted. His strength had almost given out when suddenly something very strange happened. The cruel thorns softened, and roses began to bloom on the briars. He moved as though by magic through the branches.
A hundred years had passed since Rose’s fifteenth birthday, but in the palace time had stood still. The prince opened the heavy palace doors. He passed among the frozen party-goers and climbed the same winding staircase the princess had climbed a hundred years before.
At the top of the staircase he saw the letters ‘Rose’ on the dusty door. And inside the turret room, he found the sleeping girl. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. Slowly as if in a dream, he bent his head and kissed her.
The princess woke immediately. "I have waited for you so long," she said, gazing up at him.
At once everyone in the palace awoke. The king turned to the queen and said, "I quite agree with you, my dear." The mouse scuttled further down the hole away from the hissing cat. The dog rolled over. The seeker took his hands away from his eyes, and called out, "Ready!" and the children hiding smiled, fingers on lips and whispered "Shhhh!" The naughty kitchen boy scrambled off the cook’s lap and she slapped her own knee instead. The fly landed on a jammy spoon, and the palace clock struck six.
Many years later, when Rose and the prince were married, they would often tell their children the strange tale of the thirteenth fairy, the spindle and the hundred sleeping years.
Story Time � 1984-1989 by Rubicon Press CC