Indian Fairy Tales (3 page)

The prince was very sorry when he heard this. "How can I crush the oil
out of all this mustard seed in one day?" he said to himself; "and if I
do not, the king will kill me." He took the mustard seed to the old
woman's house, and did not know what to do. At last he remembered the
Ant-Raja, and the moment he did so, the Ant-Raja and his ants came to
him. "Why do you look so sad?" said the Ant-Raja.

The prince showed him the mustard seed, and said to him, "How can I
crush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day? And if I do not
take the oil to the king to-morrow morning, he will kill me."

"Be happy," said the Ant-Raja; "lie down and sleep; we will crush all
the oil out for you during the day, and to-morrow morning you shall
take it to the king." The Raja's son lay down and slept, and the ants
crushed out the oil for him. The prince was very glad when he saw the
oil.

The next morning he took it to the court-house to the king. But the
king said, "You cannot yet marry my daughter. If you wish to do so, you
must first fight with my two demons and kill them." The king a long
time ago had caught two demons, and then, as he did not know what to do
with them, he had shut them up in a cage. He was afraid to let them
loose for fear they would eat up all the people in his country; and he
did not know how to kill them. So all the kings and kings' sons who
wanted to marry the Princess Labam had to fight with these demons;
"for," said the king to himself, "perhaps the demons may be killed, and
then I shall be rid of them."

When he heard of the demons the Raja's son was very sad. "What can I
do?" he said to himself. "How can I fight with these two demons?" Then
he thought of his tiger: and the tiger and his wife came to him and
said, "Why are you so sad?" The Raja's son answered, "The king has
ordered me to fight with his two demons and kill them. How can I do
this?" "Do not be frightened," said the tiger. "Be happy. I and my wife
will fight with them for you."

Then the Raja's son took out of his bag two splendid coats. They were
all gold and silver, and covered with pearls and diamonds. These he put
on the tigers to make them beautiful, and he took them to the king, and
said to him, "May these tigers fight your demons for me?" "Yes," said
the king, who did not care in the least who killed his demons, provided
they were killed. "Then call your demons," said the Raja's son, "and
these tigers will fight them." The king did so, and the tigers and the
demons fought and fought until the tigers had killed the demons.

"That is good," said the king. "But you must do something else before I
give you my daughter. Up in the sky I have a kettle-drum. You must go
and beat it. If you cannot do this, I will kill you."

The Raja's son thought of his little bed; so he went to the old woman's
house and sat on his bed. "Little bed," he said, "up in the sky is the
king's kettle-drum. I want to go to it." The bed flew up with him, and
the Raja's son beat the drum, and the king heard him. Still, when he
came down, the king would not give him his daughter. "You have," he
said to the prince, "done the three things I told you to do; but you
must do one thing more." "If I can, I will," said the Raja's son.

Then the king showed him the trunk of a tree that was lying near his
court-house. It was a very, very thick trunk. He gave the prince a wax
hatchet, and said, "Tomorrow morning you must cut this trunk in two
with this wax hatchet."

The Raja's son went back to the old woman's house. He was very sad, and
thought that now the Raja would certainly kill him. "I had his oil
crushed out by the ants," he said to himself. "I had his demons killed
by the tigers. My bed helped me to beat his kettle-drum. But now what
can I do? How can I cut that thick tree-trunk in two with a wax
hatchet?"

At night he went on his bed to see the princess. "To-morrow," he said
to her, "your father will kill me." "Why?" asked the princess.

"He has told me to cut a thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet.
How can I ever do that?" said the Raja's son. "Do not be afraid," said
the princess; "do as I bid you, and you will cut it in two quite
easily."

Then she pulled out a hair from her head, and gave it to the prince.
"To-morrow," she said, "when no one is near you, you must say to the
tree-trunk, 'The Princess Labam commands you to let yourself be cut in
two by this hair.' Then stretch the hair down the edge of the wax
hatchet's blade."

The prince next day did exactly as the princess had told him; and the
minute the hair that was stretched down the edge of the hatchet-blade
touched the tree-trunk it split into two pieces.

The king said, "Now you can marry my daughter." Then the wedding took
place. All the Rajas and kings of the countries round were asked to
come to it, and there were great rejoicings. After a few days the
prince's son said to his wife, "Let us go to my father's country." The
Princess Labam's father gave them a quantity of camels and horses and
rupees and servants; and they travelled in great state to the prince's
country, where they lived happily.

The prince always kept his bag, bowl, bed, and stick; only, as no one
ever came to make war on him, he never needed to use the stick.

Once upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on
his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly.

Now one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to
think of all the good things he should get from her, when who should he
meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said:
"Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!"

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said:

"To Granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so."

The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

By-and-by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the
tender morsel before him, said: "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!"

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said:

"To Granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so."

The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

And by-and-by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an Eagle,
and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: "Lambikin!
Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!"

But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk:

"To Granny's house I go,
Where I shall fatter grow,
Then you can eat me so."

At last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry,
"Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to
keep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin
at once
."

So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin,
and there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate,
and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said
he was fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little
Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat
him on the way back, he was so plump and tender.

"I'll tell you what you must do," said Master Lambikin, "you must make
a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and
then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a
drum myself."

So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin,
with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in
the middle, and trundled away gaily. Soon he met with the Eagle, who
called out:

"Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?"

And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied:

"Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum-too!"

"How very annoying!" sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the
tender morsel he had let slip.

Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing:

"Tum-pa, tum-too;
Tum-pa, tum-too!"

Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question:

"Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?"

And to each of them the little slyboots replied:

"Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum too;
Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!"

Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let
slip.

At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp
as a needle, and he too called out—

"Drumikin! Drumikin!
Have you seen Lambikin?"

And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily:

"Fallen into the fire, and so will you
On little Drumikin! Tum-pa—"

But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognised his voice at
once, and cried: "Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you?
Just you come out of that!"

Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.

Once upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters.
They were all good girls; but the youngest, named Balna, was more
clever than the rest. The Raja's wife died when they were quite little
children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to
take care of them.

The Raja's daughters took it by turns to cook their father's dinner
every day, whilst he was absent deliberating with his Ministers on the
affairs of the nation.

About this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter; and
every day, every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing their
father's dinner, the Prudhan's widow and daughter would come and beg
for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her
sisters, "Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at
her own house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to come
here, we shall suffer for it some day."

But the other sisters would answer, "Be quiet, Balna; why must you
always be quarrelling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if
she likes." Then the Prudhan's widow used to go to the hearth and take
a few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly
throw some mud into the midst of the dishes which were being prepared
for the Raja's dinner.

Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother's
death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to
avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he
found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from
their carelessness, as it did not seem likely that any one should have
put mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did not like to
reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated
many successive days.

At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters
cooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room,
and watched them through a hole in the wall.

There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and
preparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by the
fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan's widow come to
the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her dinner
with. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, "Why don't you keep fuel
in your own house, and not come here every day and take ours? Sisters,
don't give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for herself."

Then the eldest sister answered, "Balna, let the poor woman take the
wood and the fire; she does us no harm." But Balna replied, "If you let
her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make us
sorry for it, some day."

The Raja then saw the Prudhan's widow go to the place where all his
dinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a
little mud into each of the dishes.

At this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and
brought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had
played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and
she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words,
that instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his
Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.

Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get
them, if possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might
have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their
place; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her,
she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but
bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little water to drink;
so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have
everything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all
their lives long, were very miserable and unhappy; and they used to go
out every day and sit by their dead mother's tomb and cry—and say:

"Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we
are, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?"

One day, whilst they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a
beautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh ripe
pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some of the
fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the bad
dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to
their mother's grave and eat the pomeloes which grew there on the
beautiful tree.

Then the Ranee said to her daughter, "I cannot tell how it is, every
day those seven girls say they don't want any dinner, and won't eat
any; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than
you do. I cannot tell how it is." And she bade her watch the seven
Princesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.

So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother's grave, and were
eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Prudhan's daughter followed them,
and saw them gathering the fruit.