The Musician came in, dressed in dirty rags, and sang to the King and his Daughter, and when he had finished, he begged alms of them.
The King said: ‘Your song has pleased me so much, that I will give you my Daughter to be your wife.’
The Princess was horror-stricken. But the King said: ‘I have sworn an oath to give you to the first beggar who came; and I will keep my word.’
No entreaties were of any avail. A Parson was brought, and she had to marry the Musician there and then.
When the marriage was completed, the King said: ‘Now you are a beggar-woman, you can’t stay in my castle any longer. You must go away with your Husband.’
The Beggar took her by the hand and led her away, and she was obliged to go with him on foot.
When they came to a big wood, she asked:
‘It belongs to King Thrushbeard. It might have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!
I would I’d accepted the hand of the King.’
After that they reached a great meadow, and she asked again:
‘They belong to King Thrushbeard, and would have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!
I would Id accepted the love of the King.’
Then they passed through a large town, and again she asked:
‘It belongs to King Thrushbeard, and it might have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!
I would I’d accepted the heart of the King.’
