a hundred years, at the end of which time a king’s son will come to wake her.”
The king, who did all he could to ward off the doom pronounced by the old fairy, issued an edict forbidding any one to use a spindle, or even to have one in the house, on pain of death.
After fifteen or sixteen years, while the king and queen had gone to one of their pleasure-houses, it so fell out that the princess was playing in the castle, running through the rooms and climbing up stairway after stairway. At last she came to the very top of a turret, and found herself in a little garret, where an old woman sat all alone working with her spindle.
“What are you doing there, my good woman?” said the princess. “I am spinning, my pretty child,” answered the old lady, who did not appear to recognize her. “Oh! how nice it looks,” exclaimed the princess; “how do you manage it? Do give it me, and let me see if I can do it as well as you.” No sooner had she taken the spindle, catching hold of it a little roughly in her eagerness—or perhaps it was only the decree of the fairies that ordained it so—than it pricked her hand, and she fell in a swoon to the ground.
The good old lady, who seemed in a great state of alarm, cried for help. From every side the servants came running. One of them threw water in the princess’s face. Another loosened her collar. Another slapped her hands. Another bathed her forehead with Queen-of-Hungary water. But nothing would restore her.
Then the king, who had come back to the palace, and rushed upstairs as soon as he heard the noise, remembered the prophecy of the fairies. Judging shrewdly enough that this was bound to happen, since the fairies had said so, he had the princess put in the most beautiful room in the palace, upon a bed embroidered with gold and silver. You
