Jack squirmed. But before he could think of how to answer, the hen clucked loudly, sat down, and laid an egg. A perfectly white, perfectly ordinary egg.
Jack's mother just looked at Jack.
Jack sighed. "I guess I forgot to mention that you have to feed the hen gold before she lays golden eggs."
"But we don't have any gold," his mother pointed out.
"But we will." Jack pulled the cover off the harp. "People will come from miles around to hear this. They'll pay us. Sing, harp," he commanded.
And the harp did.
In loud, off-key, gooey, sticky, ear-shattering, eye-watering, fingernails-on-blackboard notes.
Jack's mother put her head down on the table and covered her ears. "Stop," she cried. "Make it stop."
Jack threw the cover back over the harp.
Eventually the harp stopped singing.
"Oops," Jack said.
Jack's mother raised her head, then looked frantically at the door. "Jack!" she said. "What was that noise? Is that the giant outside?"
Jack leapt to his feet, listening, though he hadn't heard anything.
His mother said, "You better take the ax and check."
Jack got the ax from beside the door.
"Look in the barn and all around the yard," his mother advised.
"All right," Jack said.
While he was gone, his mother changed the locks.
SEVEN
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EIGHT
The Bridge
Once upon a time before there were toll bridges, there were troll bridges.
One day three billy goat brothers were munching on the tall, sweet grass on the south side of a river, when the smallest and youngest ot the billy goats happened to look up and notice that the grass on the north side of the river was taller yet and looked even sweeter. So the smallest billy goat headed off across the bridge, his tiny hooves going click-click over the wooden boards.
When he got halfway across, however, a long, skinny, hairy hand reached out from underneath the bridge and grabbed hold of his leg.
"Mmmm," a troll voice said, and the smallest billy goat could hear the smacking of troll lips. "This looks like a tasty treat for a midmorning snack."
"Oh, please don't eat me," the smallest billy goat pleaded. "I'm so small and skinny, it would hardly be worth the effort of eating me."
"A mouthful is better than none," the troll said, dragging the smallest billy goat closer and closer to the edge of the bridge.
"Yes, but," the smallest billy goat said, catching a glimpse of yellow troll eyes and sharp troll teeth, "my older brother, who's much bigger than I am, is right behind me. If you eat me, he's sure to see, and he'll never come across. If you let me go, you can eat him."
The troll looked over the smallest billy goat's shoulder and saw that there was, indeed, a somewhat larger billy goat approaching. The troll licked the smallest billy goat's leg but then let him go.
The smallest billy goat trotted across the bridge as fast as his skinny legs would carry him.
The middle billy goat—who was middle both in size and age—had noticed the tall, sweet-looking grass on the north side of the river, and now he saw his brother was there. So the middle billy goat headed off across the bridge, his medium-size hooves going tap-tap over the wooden boards.
When he got halfway across, however, a long, skinny, hairy hand reached out from underneath the bridge and grabbed hold of his leg.
"Mmmm," a troll voice said, and the middle billy goat could hear the smacking of troll lips. "This looks like a tasty treat for lunch."
"Oh, please don't eat me," the middle billy goat pleaded. "I'm so small and skinny, it would hardly be worth the effort of eating me."
"Two mouthfuls is better than none," the troll said, dragging the middle billy goat closer and closer to the edge of the bridge.
"Yes, but," the middle billy goat said, catching a glimpse of yellow troll eyes and sharp troll teeth, "my oldest brother, who's much, much bigger than I am, is right behind me. If you eat me, he's sure to see and he'll never come across. If you let me go, you can eat him."
The troll looked over the middle billy goat's shoulder and saw that there was, indeed, a quite large billy goat approaching. The troll licked the middle billy goat's leg but then let him go.
The middle billy goat trotted across the bridge as fast as his medium-size legs would carry him.
The biggest and oldest of the billy goats had seen how the grass across the river looked tall and sweet. He now saw one brother was there and the other about to join him. So the largest billy goat headed off across the bridge, his big hooves going thump-thump over the wooden boards.
When he got halfway across, however, a long, skinny, hairy hand reached out from underneath the bridge and grabbed hold of his leg.
"Mmmm," a troll voice said, and the biggest billy goat could hear the smacking of troll lips. "This looks like a tasty treat for dinner."
"I'm not dinner," the biggest billy goat said, "I'm a billy goat."
"You're dinner now," the troll said, dragging the biggest billy goat closer and closer to the edge of the bridge.
But just when the troll got the biggest billy goat where it thought it wanted him, the biggest billy goat lowered his large head and with a powerful jab of his huge horns, he knocked the troll off the bridge and into the water.
Then the biggest billy goat went thump-thump the rest of the way across the bridge.
"Good work," the smallest billy goat said.
"Good work," the middle billy goat said.
"Thanks for the warning," the biggest billy goat said. "I could have gotten killed."
And with that he knocked both of them into the water and ate all the tall, sweet grass himself.
NINE
Rated PG-13
Fairy-tale endings you're not likely to see:
— after growing into a beautiful swan, the Ugly Duckling pecks all his tormentors to death.
— the Emperor orders the execution of everyone who's seen him naked.
— the lazy cat, dog, and mouse suffocate the Little Red Hen with her own cake.
— the elves lock the Shoemaker and his wife in the basement, take all their money, and run off to Central America, where they operate a pirate radio station.
— the Gingerbread Man turns out to be carnivorous and eats the fox.
— Snow White and Sleeping Beauty simply refuse to get out of bed.
— when a portion of the sky really does fall, Chicken Little becomes the leader of her own religious movement; she gets her own TV show, collects millions of dollars to build a theme park, then makes off with the money, joining the elves in Central America.
TEN
Mattresses
Once upon a time, before the invention of waterbeds or air mattresses or Craftmatic adjustable beds, there lived a prince named Royal. Because Prince Royal had such a royal name, great things were expected of him, and when it was time for him to many, everyone agreed that he needed to find absolutely the most perfect princess to be his wife.
One rainy night while the search for the most perfect princess was still going on, there came a knocking at the door of the castle. The servants opened the door and there stood a most lovely girl, wearing satins and silks and furs, just like a princess, but she was totally drenched, as though she'd been swimming in her fine clothes.
"I am Princess Courtney of Winthrop," she said when she was led into the presence of Prince Royal and his mother, the queen, in the audience chamber. "I've accidentally gotten separated from my traveling companions, and now I'm lost and wet and cold and hungry. May I please spend the night in your castle?"
Prince Royal fe
ll in love immediately. He just stood there, with his hand over his racing heart, unable to remember how to speak. The queen, seeing this, answered graciously, "Of course, my dear," and ordered the servants to prepare a room for Princess Courtney, to find her diy clothes, and to prepare a meal for her.
"Oh my," Prince Royal said as soon as Princess Courtney was escorted from the audience chamber. "Isn't she the most perfect princess you've ever seen?"
"Well," the queen agreed, "she's certainly very beautiful."
Later, at dinner, as the princess ate daintily, always knowing which of the several forks and spoons to use, Prince Royal leaned over to his mother and asked, "Isn't she the most perfect princess you've ever seen?"
"Well," the queen agreed, "she certainly has elegant manners."
After that, when Prince Royal had finally remembered how to speak, he and Princess Courtney spoke of politics and philosophy and art.
That night, when Prince Royal stopped by his mother's room to wish her a good night, he sighed and said, "Isn't she the most perfect princess you've ever seen?"
"Well," the queen agreed, "she certainly is very intelligent and eloquent."
Prince Royal went to bed, planning that in the morning he would ask Princess Courtney to marry him, since she was obviously the most perfect princess in the world. But no sooner had he set his head to his pillow than he heard a loud scream from the princess's bedroom.
The prince, the queen, and all the servants ran to the princess's door. "Courtney, angel," Prince Royal called, "what's the matter?"
Princess Courtney threw open the door and stood leaning weakly against the door frame, one hand pressed to her back.
"What happened?" Prince Royal asked, putting his arm around her because she was obviously shaken.
Princess Courtney pointed to the bed. "That, that... thing!"
"The bed, my dear?" asked the queen, as though perhaps Princess Courtney had forgotten the word.
"That torture device," Princess Courtney said. "What's the mattress stuffed with?"
The queen went to the bed and pressed against the mattress. "Why, it's stuffed with the down of baby swans, the way all our mattresses are. Do you have allergies?"
"Of course not," the princess snapped. "But your baby swans feel as if they must have rocks and shards of glass instead of down. Don't you feel the lumps and bumps and sharp things?"
The queen felt and felt but could find nothing.
Prince Royal hugged Princess Courtney and said, "The most perfect princesses are very delicate."
"Yes," the queen said. "Well, someone go fetch another mattress."
Another mattress was brought and was set upon the first.
"I'm sure that will be much better," Princess Courtney said.
Prince Royal kissed her hand good night and everybody trooped out of the room.
But Prince Royal had no sooner closed the door to his room than he heard a horrible shriek from Princess Courtney's room.
Everybody met once again in front of her door, calling out, "What is it? What's happened?"
Princess Courtney flung open the door, moaning and holding on to her back with both hands this time. "Oh, the anguish, the torment!" she murmured.
Again the queen felt the bed; again she found nothing wrong. "Bring up two more mattresses," she ordered. "And a step stool so the princess can get up." She patted the princess's shoulder. "There, there," she said. "Four mattresses will make it better."
Princess Courtney smiled graciously.
But once the two additional mattresses were brought and set in place—and once the queen, the prince, and all the servants had stepped out into the hall—the night was once again pierced by Princess Courtney's frantic cries for help.
She came to the door, staggering, her hair wild, her clothes disheveled.
Prince Royal patted her hand while the servants went to fetch the five additional mattresses and the stepladder the queen had ordered. "That makes nine mattresses in all," Prince Royal told the princess. "Surely that will be enough."
"If not," Princess Courtney said, "I will try to bear my pain bravely."
As Prince Royal and the queen left the room, Prince Royal whispered to his mother, "She's brave, too. Isn't she the most perfect princess you've ever seen?"
"Well," the queen said, "she certainly is very delicate, even for a princess."
This time Prince Royal not only made it back into his room but even into his bed. He lay his head on his pillow and thought of his brave princess. He yawned. He closed his eyes. He became aware of a sound, not a scream or a shriek or a cry, but a soft whimpering.
Prince Royal got up and knocked on Princess Courtney's door. "Courtney, angel, is everything all right?" He could hear her sobbing.
"Oh, the pain, the pain."
"Courtney, angel, open the door and we'll get you more mattresses."
"I can't," the princess cried. "I've been crippled by the pain."
So Prince Royal had to call for the kingdom's battering ram and twelve strong men-at-arms, who knocked down the door. Prince Royal climbed up the stepladder and lifted the princess off the nine mattresses.
"I tried so hard to be brave," she whispered, "but it was more than my body could endure."
The queen, who had been awakened by the door coming down, ordered ten more mattresses and a full-size ladder.
This time everyone stayed in the room until Princess Courtney was perched on top of her pile of nineteen mattresses. "How is that, my dear?" the queen asked.
Princess Courtney winced but said quietly, "It will do."
In the hallway, Prince Royal turned to his mother.
His mother said, in a tone she'd never used with him before: "Go to bed, Royal."
There were no more major disturbances in the night, but all night long they could hear—since the door was gone—the bed springs creaking and the princess sighing.
The next morning, Princess Courtney came to breakfast all stooped over and with bags under her eyes, though she still looked lovely. Actually the queen had bags under her eyes, too, and so did Prince Royal and the servants who were setting out the breakfast.
The queen asked, "Didn't you sleep well, my dear, once there were nineteen mattresses?"
"I tossed and turned all night," Princess Courtney said. "It was as though all those mattress were perched upon a pointy mountain."
While arrangements were being made for the princess to be returned to her own castle, Prince Royal and the queen went back up to her room. The queen climbed the ladder and lay on the mattresses.
"Do you feel the pointy mountain?" Prince Royal asked.
"No," his mother said. "But then I'm a queen, not a princess."
Still, she ordered the servants to take away all nineteen mattresses so she could examine the bed frame.
"Ah!" she said.
"Ah?" Prince Royal asked.
The queen picked up a single squashed pea, which had somehow made its way under the first mattress. "This was what she felt."
Prince Royal leaned closer to see. "It's quite small," he said.
"Yes, it is," his mother agreed.
"I guess this shows that Courtney is, indeed, a perfect princess, that she could feel such a tiny thing under all those mattresses."
"It does show that," the queen admitted.
"But it also shows she's very fussy," Prince Royal said.
"Hard to get along with," the queen added.
"Impossible to please," Prince Royal finished.
So they waved good-bye when Princess Courtney set out for home, and Prince Royal never did ask her to many him.
And after she was gone, everybody went back to bed.
ELEVEN
Twins
Once upon a time, before Medicare or golden-age retirement communities, there lived a beautiful young girl named Isabella, who stayed at home to take care of her parents. The boys in the village would whistle when they walked by her house and they'd call out, "Isabella, come out and play," or
"Isabella, come see Clarence's new puppy," or "Isabella, will you watch us race?"
But Isabella always said no, she had to take care of her parents.
The years passed, and Isabella became a beautiful young woman. The young men of the village would carry flowers to her door and they'd say, "Isabella, come out for a picnic," or "Isabella, come to the dance," or "Isabella, will you kiss me?"
But Isabella always said no, she had to take care of her parents.
Until the day Isabella's parents died.
All the young men she had grown up with had married long ago, or they had left the village to seek their fortunes. There were new young men, of course. But—although they knew Isabella as a kind and gentle woman—they were too young to remember when Isabella had been young and beautiful, and they never came knocking at her door.
Then one day, one of her old suitors who had left the village came back. He was stooped and haggard, looking older than he was, and more wary and suspicious than Isabella remembered. The man's name was Siegfried and he was a woodcutter who lived in a small cottage in the forest. But his wife had just died and he needed help to raise his two small children.
Isabella was horrified when she learned that Siegfried had left his children alone in the cottage in the woods while he came to the village, and she immediately agreed to marry him and take care of all of them.
And beautiful children they were, Isabella thought when she and her new husband arrived back at the cottage, as beautiful as the carved marble angels over the doors of the cathedral. A boy and a girl, obviously twins, they couldn't have been older than six or seven.
"Hansel," Siegfried said to the boy, "Gretel," he said to the girl, "say hello to your new mother."
Isabella stooped down to hug the children, but Gretel said, "She's not our mother."
And Hansel said, "Our mother's dead." Then he added, "Our mother didn't love us."
And Gretel finished, "She wouldn't have died if she did."
How incredibly sad, Isabella thought. Oh, the poor, sweet dears. Her eyes filled with tears for the sad, sad children. "Of course your mother loved you," she said. "She didn't want to leave you. And I'm not here to replace her. Nobody could ever do that. But I'm here to love you and take care of you just the way your mother did."