Tales from the Brothers Grimm and the Sisters Weird

A Golden Opportunity

Sidney kicked on the dining-room door. "Hey," he yelled. "Hey, princess!"

He heard the king ask, "What's that noise?"

"Nothing," the princess answered.

"Princess!" Sidney yelled. "Its me, the frog prince. You accidentally left me behind."

The king's voice said, "He says he's a frog prince. What does he mean, you left him behind?"

"I don't know," the princess said.

"You promised you'd help me." Sidney wasn't used to yelling, and his throat was getting sore. "In return for getting back your father's golden ball paperweight that you were playing with and dropped into the pool in the garden."

"The golden paperweight that left a wet spot on my papers this afternoon?" the king asked.

"I don't know anything about it," the princess aid.

The king must have brought his fist down on the table. Sidney could hear the dishes rattle. "A promise," the king said, "is a promise. Let the frog in!"

MAGIC CARPET BOOKS
HARCOURT, INC.

Orlando Austin New York San Diego London

Copyright © 1995 by Vivian Vande Velde

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording,
or any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work
should be submitted online at
www.harcourt.com/contact
or mailed to the following address: Permissions Department,
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company,
6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

www.HarcourtBooks.com

Illustrations copyright © 1995 by Brad Weinman

First Magic Carpet Books edition 2005

Magic Carpet Books
is a trademark of Harcourt, Inc.,
registered in the United States of America and/or other jurisdictions.

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows.
Vande Velde, Vivian.
Tales from the Brothers Grimm and the Sisters Weird/Vivian Vande Velde.
p. cm.
Summary: Presents thirteen twisted versions of such familiar fairy tales as
Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Hansel and Crete!,
and the Three Billy Goats Gruff.
I. Fairy tales. 2. Parodies. [L Fairy tales. 2. Folklore.
3. Humorous stories.] 1 Title.
PZ8.V2374Tal 1995
[398.2] —dc20 94-26341
ISBN 978-0-15-200220-6
ISBN 978-0-15-205572-1 pb

Text set in Cochin
Designed by Camilla Filancia
C E G I J H F D

Printed in the United States of America

To the children of the Rochester area schools,
who have provided me with lots
of ideas for stories,
and especially to the children of
Twelve Corners School,
who provided me with this one.

And to Cynthia "Wild Washerwoman" DeFelice,
who came up with the right answer before
I even knew there was a question.

ONE

Straw into Gold 1

TWO

Frog
27

THREE

All Points Bulletin
36

FOUR

The Granddaughter
37

FIVE

Excuses
51

SIX

Jack
53

SEVEN

And Now a Word from Our Sponsor
71

E
IGHT

The Bridge
72

N
INE

Rated PG-13
77

TEN

Mattresses
79

ELEVEN

Twins
88

TWELVE

Evidence
107

THIRTEEN

Beast and Beauty
109

Once upon a time, in the days before Social Security or insurance companies, there lived a miller and his daughter, Della, who were fairly well-off and reasonably happy until the day their mill burned down.

Suddenly they had nothing except the clothes they were wearing: no money, nor any way to make money, nor any possibility of ever getting money again unless they came up with a plan.

Now the miller was very good at milling, and he was fairly good at being a father, but at planning he was no good at all.

His plan was this: They would sit by the side of the road and wait for someone who looked rich to pass by. Then the miller would announce: "My daughter can spin straw into gold. If you give us three gold pieces, she will spin a whole barnful of straw into gold for you." If the rich people were interestedand the miller pointed out that they couldn't help but be interested—he would then say that his daughter's magic only worked by moonlight. "You must leave her alone—completely undisturbed—all night long. And by dawn all of the straw will be spun into gold."

"I don't understand this plan," Della said. "I'm not very good at spinning, even wool, and I have no idea how—"

"No, no," the miller interrupted, "you don't understand."

"That's what I just said." Della sighed.

"Listen," the miller explained, "the plan, of course, is for the two of us to take our fee of three gold pieces and run away during the night."

"That's dishonest," Della pointed out.

"So it is," her father admitted. "But we will take those three gold pieces and rebuild our mill. Once the mill is working again, we will save all our money until we can repay the people we've tricked."

Della still didn't like this plan, but since she herself had no experience beyond milling and being a daughter, she agreed.

So Della and her father sat by the side of the road, and the first rich person to pass by was the richest person in the land: he was the king.

"Oh, dear," Della said, recognizing the royal crest on the door of the carriage, "maybe we should wait—"

But if the miller was not good at making plans, he was even worse at changing plans once they were made. Standing in the middle of the road, he called out, "My daughter can spin straw into gold. If you give us three gold pieces, she will spin a whole barnful of straw into gold for you."

The king motioned for the driver to stop the horses. "You," he said, leaning out of the window. "Both of you, come closer." The king had clothes of red satin and brocade, sewn with gold thread. He wore more rings than he had fingers, and he had a dark wig, which was all thick ringlets around his pale face. He put a silk handkerchief to his nose, for Della and her father still smelled of smoke from their burned-down mill. "What did you say?" he demanded.

The miller wasn't sure if this question meant the king was interested and he should now explain about the moonlight and the being left alone, or if it meant the king was slightly deaf and hadn't heard the first part. The miller decided he'd better repeat himself. He raised his voice and enunciated clearly. "My daughter can spin straw into gold. If you give us three gold pieces, she will spin a whole barnful of straw into gold for you."

"If she can spin straw into gold," the king asked, "then why are the two of you dressed in filthy rags?"

"Ah," the miller said. "Well..." Once again he had been all prepared to explain about the moonlight and the being left alone, and now that he couldn't say that, he had no idea what to say. "Why are we dressed in rags?" he repeated. "That's a very good question. That's an excellent question."

The king dabbed at his nose, then let his handkerchief drop into the mud by the road, since he only ever used a handkerchief once. He pulled out a new one.

"Our mill burned down," Della explained.

"Yes," the miller agreed. "Including the spinning wheel. And the straw."

"Hmmm," the king said. "Very well. You may follow the carriage to the castle. You will be provided with your three gold pieces, a spinning wheel, and straw." He dropped his second handkerchief without having used it at all and motioned for the driver to get the horses moving.

The miller nudged his daughter as they started down the road after the carriage. "See," he said. "I told you the plan would work."

"Yes," Della said, "so you did." But she was still worried.

And rightly so. For when they got to the castle, the plan began to fall apart.

The king insisted that Della work at her spinning in the castle itself instead of in the barn.

"But," the miller protested, "she needs to work her magic at night, by the light of the moon."

"Fine," the king said. "The rooms on the second floor have windows to let in the moonlight."

The miller gulped, since it would be harder to get Della away if she was up on the second floor. He tried again. "But if anybody interrupts Della while she's working her magic, then the magic will reverse itself and all the gold she's spun will turn back into straw."

"We'll lock her in the room to make sure nobody interrupts her," the king said.

Della gave her father a warning nudge before he could say anything else to make matters even worse.

"And of course," the king said, "if she fails to spin this straw into gold, I will have her head chopped off." To the servants he said, "Lock this man away for the night so he doesn't try to escape." As two of the largest servants took the miller by the arms, the king told him, "Come back tomorrow, and I will give you your three gold pieces or your daughter's head."

"But ... but..." the miller started, but before he could think of anything to say, he was dragged out of the room.

Leaving Della, for the first time in her life, on her own.

The king had her led up to a room that was as big as the entire mill had been. Servants brought in a spinning wheel, and then load after load after load after load of straw until the whole room was filled with straw, except for the area around the spinning wheel.

How am I ever going to get out of this?
Della thought. She hoped to slip out of the room while the servants were making their deliveries, but someone was always watching her. Then, after the king's guards locked her in, she tried to get the door open with her hairpin, the way heroines in stories always do, but in the end all she had was a bent hairpin. She couldn't even climb out the window, which was too narrow to pass through and very high up. And even if she did get out—what about her father?

She kicked the spinning wheel, which made her feel a little bit better but not much.

The servants hadn't even given her anything to eat, and now as the room got darker and darker until the only light was the moonlight coming through her prison window, Della added dinner to the list of meals she'd missed that day.

Sitting on the hard floor, the last thing in the world she intended to do was to start crying, but that's exactly what she did.

After a while—after a long while—she used her sleeve to rub her eyes and nose since she didn't have a handkerchief, silk or otherwise. From behind her came the sound of someone clearing his throat discreetly. Out of the corner of her eye, Della saw that whoever was behind her was offering her a handkerchief.

Without turning around, Della tried to work out exactly what she would say. "You see," she started, "actually crying is necessary for the magic.... Tears, tears are the lubricant for the spinning wheel ... but it only works if I'm totally alone, and since you were watching, I won't be able to do the spell again until—" At this point, she did turn around, and she stopped talking midexplanation.

She'd been expecting to see the king or one of his servants. Instead, crouched beside her was a young man who was obviously not even human. In fact, he was an elf. Tall and slender, with pointy ears, he'd been listening very attentively if somewhat quizzically.

"Well, that doesn't make a lot of sense," he told her, but then he smiled, and she saw he was handsome in a strange, otherworldy way. He added, "But I do admire your quick thinking."