The roaring fire place crackled and burned while its bright golden flames lit up the little parlor where there sat a small girl, warming her toes by the fire. She was a pretty little girl wearing a long nightgown. Her long curls hung loose around her shoulders, framing her little face. She looked up smiling at her grandfather who sat quite still and silent beside her in his chair.
“Grandfather,” she said, “Tell me a story.”
Roused from his thoughts, he turned to his little granddaughter and said,
“What kind of story would you like to hear?”
She paused a moment to think and then her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Tell me a fairytale!”
“A fairytale? Well. . . Now, I don’t know,” he smiled.
She laughed and urged him further.
“Alright, alright,” he said, while pulling her up into his lap.
“Where should my story begin?” he asked.
“At the beginning, of course,” She smiled.
He hugged his little granddaughter close to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. The grandfather took a deep breath and began.
“Once upon a time, there lived a very old King. This King was no usual King, this King was a very lonely King. He had everything in all the world that he could possibly want. He had diamonds, gold, and an enormous palace, yet he was still very sad. One day, the King sat alone on his throne looking very downcast. Two of the King’s royal advisors came to visit him. When they saw how sad the poor King looked they became very concerned.
‘The poor King,’ whispered one to the other, ‘He looks so very sad.’
‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘I am afraid it will affect his health.’
‘Do you think it might?’ asked the other, concerned.
‘Indeed. If the King finds no cure for his sorrow, what will the Kingdom do?’
‘We must do something to help the poor King.’
‘Yes . . . but what?’
‘We must find a cure for him. . . We must apply to the whole Kingdom to find a cure for the King!’ suggested the advisor.
‘Yes, and to the one who finds the cure we shall bestow an award!’
Then the two advisors turned to go to the King to tell him their plan.
‘Your Majesty,’ began the first, ‘we have been speaking of a solution to your very great troubles.’
The King slightly lifted his sagging eyebrows and asked,
‘Have you a cure for me then?’
‘We would like to send out a proclamation to all of the people of the land requesting that they seek out and bring you the best cure for sorrow in all of the world.’
The King nodded his heavy head.
‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘If you think it will do any good.’
The men left in a hurry, eager to send out the proclamation.
The next day, a man in a large plumed hat stepped out into the town square to read the royal proclamation to all of the town’s people.
‘Hear ye, hear ye!’ his voice rang out.
The people began to gather around to hear the news from the castle.
‘The King desires for all of the people of the land to seek out the greatest cure for sorrow in all of the world. To the one who discovers the truest cure, the King shall bestow an award.’
Soon after the proclamation had been read, crowds of eager villagers flocked around the palace, eager to show the King their cures. The King called for the first villager to come forward and show him the remedy to his problem.
‘Great King,’ said the first villager, ‘I have brought you a cure to restore to you your happiness once again,’ and with that, the villager pulled out a single tea bag.
‘This tea, your Majesty, has been passed from generation to generation throughout my family. It has always been a cure for sadness in the past.’
The King called for the royal tea pot to be brought at once. The King was given a cup of tea and he sipped it in hopes that it would restore to him his happiness. As he drank the tea he felt his heart sink. It had not made him happy.
‘Next!’ cried the King.
The second villager stepped forward, this time he held a puppy in his hand.
‘Your Majesty,’ he started, ‘This puppy has never failed to bring happiness on all who stroke his fur.’
‘Bring him here to me,’ said the King.
The little puppy was placed in the King’s lap. He stroked him and felt a little at ease, but his heart was still very heavy. The King called for the next villager to come forward.
‘Your Majesty,’ began the third villager, ‘This is my family’s famous cookie recipe. It has never failed to give delight.’
The villager handed a cookie to the King, who thoughtfully took a bite.
‘It is very good,’ said the King. ‘But, I am afraid it did not make me happy. Next!’ he cried again.
The fourth villager came forward. He had a small plant in his hand and gave it to the King.
‘Why have you given me a plant?’ he asked.
‘Because a plant is a very beautiful thing and beautiful things are often known to bring joy.’
‘No,’ the King sighed.
The King then called for the next villager and then the next and the next again until he hardly had the strength to speak. The King was becoming so down cast that they could not find a cure for him, that the Queen became extremely concerned.
‘Out of all these villagers,’ she said, motioning towards the crowded end of the room, ‘not a single one could find a cure for your sorrow?’
‘Not one,’ he sighed.
‘Let me call for the Court Jester again, my dear. I am told he has been working on a performance that will bring joy back to your heart,’ the Queen suggested.
‘Very well,’ he sighed.
The Court Jester walked in wearing his elaborate clothing. His hat was puffy with a big long feather, his shoes were long and pointy, and his coat sparkled and shined. He began to dance and sing for the King. He jumped so high and clicked his heels and landed softly on the ground again. Yet still, his performance was having no effect on the King. The villagers, however, watched on in awe as the man jumped and sang. Finally, from one little corner of the very great hall there came a little noise. The noise was soft and hardly noticeable at first, then it grew louder and louder. Suddenly, the King looked up and his eyes darted around the room. He could hear the most wonderful laughter coming from somewhere in the hall. The laughter was so pure and so happy that it raised his spirits into a laugh himself!
‘Who,’ he gasped, ‘who is the one with that pure and true laugh?’
The laughing soon stopped and the people began looking around to see who it was whose laugh had pleased the King.
‘Your Majesty,’ said a little voice, ‘it was I who was laughing.’
Out of the crowd there stepped a little village girl. She had large eyes and a little torn dress. She looked up and smiled at the King. The King looked down at the little girl, and then his voice rang out;
‘Court Jester, entertain this little one!’
The Court Jester leaped and danced and sang for the little girl. She laughed so sweetly that the King’s heart was soon merry and no longer sad. He then rose from his throne and stepped towards the little girl.
‘For your great service to the King, you shall be given an award. From this day forth, you shall no longer be known as a ‘little village girl’ but as a ‘little princess’ and you must visit me in my castle as often as you can.’
The little princess threw her arms around the old King’s knees, and all of the Kingdom rejoiced! Finally, when all of the celebrations had ended and it was time to go to bed the Queen came to the King and said;
‘Of all of the riches in the world, a little child is what made you happy?’
‘Yes,’ replied the King. ‘The only cure for sorrow is the gift that only God can give.’
The end.”
“Oh, that was a wonderful story,” sighed the little girl in her grandfather’s lap,
“I wish I lived a fairytale childhood like that.”
Her old grandfather smiled as he lifted her to carry her off to bed.
“You’re not as far from it as you think, little princess.”
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Eleven Worlds 