Once upon a time there was a beautiful, beautiful princess, but so beautiful that you could look at the sun but not at her. And princes and kings from all over the world came to her father's house, and surrounded the fair princess, and spoke sweet words to her, but they could speak to her: in one ear and out the other, and she would not listen.
He had not a kind word to say to any of them, and the more this proved it, and the more he would bathe her in milk-butter and carry her in the palm of his hand if she were his wife, the more he laughed at them, and the more the palace rang in his ears. There was one among the princes and kings that he liked a
a little, but he could not have had much pleasure in it, for he was even more than the rest of them, for the heartless princess spat at him.
Time went by, the princes and kings scattered to and fro, two or three if there were any left around the palace. One day - whether it was or not, I do not know, but I suppose it was as it was, so I say - two fleas jumped into the palms of the princess's hands.
Well, the princess doesn't hesitate either, she tightens her grip and puts the two little fleas in a greasy mug to grow up there. Sure enough, when she let them in, they were well fed, and in a year or two they grew so big that their skins would have made a splendid pair of shoes.
What did the princess think, what did she not think, she called in the butcher, skinned the fleas, replaced their skins with the scab, and made a pair of shoes with the boot-man's wooden*. What he thought, what he did not think again, he proclaimed before the country and the world, that whosoever should find out, of what sort of man he was, what kind of shoes he had made of what kind of leather, he would have a wife.
But the princes, kings, and all sorts of assorted lads from all over the world were gathered together again, standing in the courtyard in a huddle*, and guessing what kind of leather the queen's shoes were made of.
They said all kinds of skins, but none of them hit the mark. But the prince, who the princess liked a little, took himself, dressed himself in a beggar's dress, and somehow crept into the princess's bedroom, and hid in the stove-hole, in case the princess should tell the maid about his shoes.
It turned out exactly as he thought it would. The princess laughed a great deal at all the silly answers she had heard all day, and said to her maid:
- See, no one will ever guess that my shoes are made of flea leather!
- No, not while the world s still two days," said the maid.
After all, the prince knew just enough. The next day he mingled with the other lads in beggars' clothes, and when his turn came, he said a word:
Your Majesty, those shoes are made of flea skin!
Oh, my God, the princess faded, she trembled like a poplar leaf, but she would not change her word, and said:
You have got it, you beggar, and I will not copy my word: I am your wife from this hour. Let digger, hoe, and great bell separate us.
"Very well," said the prince in beggar's clothes, "take off your beautiful silk dress, my wife, my soul, and put on beggar's clothes, for we are a match!
Whether she wanted to or not, the prudish princess dressed up in beggar's clothes and went with her lord to the end of the village, to a dirty dormitory, which was to be their home. But even that was not enough, she had to beg with her lord from morning till night, to go begging, to build a fire in the evening, to cook dinner, as much as she could and as much as she could afford.
But even that wasn't enough: a maiden comes to the calabash and speaks loudly:
- Hey, beggar woman, go to this prince and this prince's land at once!
What could he do, he left with great bitter tears. Then her lord went away, too, but not to beg, nor to go to the fishing, but went straight to his palace, and there he put on his bright, gaudy dress, and went out to the fishing. For it was to his land that the beggar woman was sent to dig.
There the prince encouraged the catches, and kept scolding and belittling his wife for being such and such a day labourer, and not deserving any land for dinner, let alone porridge with mutton, though the poor woman was dripping with sweat.
Now, dinner time comes, the day labourers are seated at the table, and I saw, as today, silver spoons, forks and knives being put on everyone's plate. But the prince was not yet satisfied, he wanted his wife to reflect on his pride, he taught a lady of the day,
to slip a silver spoon into the pocket of that beggar woman.
For it was haddelhadd after supper, when the servants saw that a silver calant** was defective*! Well, they searched all the day labourers in turn, and - Lord Jesus, don't forsake me! In vain she spoke, in vain she swore that she had not done it, she was no thief of any kind: they took her and led her away to the dark dungeon.
No, but now the lesson was strong enough. No sooner had the door of the dungeon been shut than the prince opened it, and went in to his wife, who was still weeping like a torrential downpour.
There the prince took her gently by the hand and led her up to the palace.
She told him:
- Now, stop crying and put on your beautiful silk dress again. Behold, I have put on my dear pretty dress. For look upon me as if I were the beggar to whom you were married.
He also told me that he had interrogated the leather of his shoes in the stove stacks. Surely he would not have done so, if he had married her with his beauty.
Well, a hundred words can make a hundred ends meet, they were so nicely reconciled and cuddled together that it was a pleasure to see. At least I saw it, you can see it too. Tomorrow they shall be your guests!
(Elek Benedek: Hungarian tale- and mythology Volume 2)
*Faults: missing.
**Silver spoon: silver spoon.