Some ages ago,—a dozen, perhaps,— In a far-away land that is not on our maps, There lived a young king whose riches and greatness Were only surpassed by his youthful sedateness: He read and he studied when his work was all done; His wisdom and justice amazed every one; And money he spent with such careful intent That the national debt was reduced to a cent. But in the whole kingdom complaining was rife, Because the young king had ne'er taken a wife.
“It’s all very well while he lives,” the folk said, “But who will rule o’er us when once he is dead? Perhaps his proud cousin from over the ocean Will make us his subjects—we don’t like the notion. We want him to give us a son for his heir, To whom our allegiance forever we ’ll swear.” And one day they vowed they would go in a crowd To make known their grievance that hung like a cloud. And so they drew up a petition to carry To the popular king, to persuade him to marry.
The petition was penned by a learned committee, And signed by his subjects in country and city; And when to receive it the king had consented, The ponderous scroll was duly presented. He read it all once, then read it once more: The force of its logic he could not ignore. “Good people,” he said, “to please you I ’ll wed, And soon to the altar the bride shall be led; A wife and a queen I ’ve no cause for refusing, But I ’ll have my own way in the method of choosing.”
With satisfied smiles the people withdrew, But how he ’d select her they did wish they knew, Like fair Cinderella, because of her beauty? Or the poor Sleeping Maid, whom to wake was a duty? ’T was thus that they chattered as homeward they clattered, Until the whole crowd different ways had been scattered; While the king took his journal and found a blank page, To fill it with comment instructive and sage.
“I ask not for beauty,” the words that he penned; “For when youth has departed, that comes to an end, I care not a straw for manners majestic; Far better to be just plain and domestic. And since I know well that my own faults are many, How can I expect her not to have any? But (let who will say that my standard is comical} On this I insist: That she be Economical.
“No wasteful, extravagant hand will I choose, My good people’s taxes to squander and lose; My queen must be willing to guard the state coffer; To such a one only the crown will I offer.” He snapped the pearl clasp of his own private book, So that no prying eyes in its pages could look,
Next morning the king took his usual ride, His favorite courtiers close at his side; Each high-stepping steed with proud arching neck A-quiver with life and impatient of check; The laughter and singing, the bugle-calls ringing, The flowers that before them the children were flinging, United in making so gay a procession, Of its beauty words give but a feeble impression,
The cavalcade passed from the old city gates To the beautiful roads of the country estates, Then on to the farms, where the vines and the flowers Transformed humble dwellings to fair floral bowers, And stopped at a door where a plump, blooming lass Peered through the small panes of diamond-shaped glass. With heart wildly beating, she curtsied her greeting, “He ’s seeking a wife!” her brain kept repeating. And the king, who had never looked grander or graver, Said kindly: “Dear maiden, pray grant me a favor.
“Of course,” he continued, “you know how to bake, And often make biscuits and cookies and cake?” She answered with pride which she could not disguise. “And patties,” he queried, “and tartlets and pies?” “Your Majesty, yes; even now I am making Some pies that are very near ready for baking.” So then he explained that his call appertained To a wish for the bits of the dough that remained, As his horse, he averred, had a curious passion For eating these scraps in a ravenous fashion.
“I ’ll give him a treat, then,” she cried, running toward The table, where lay the great white molding-board, And scraping a cupful, she carried it out. “The quantity pleases,” she thought, “ without doubt. Though, alas!” and her face grew suddenly doleful, “Had I known it in time I ’d have saved a whole bowlful.” But as the gay throng swept laughing along, She returned to her work with a jubilant song, And spent the whole day dreaming dreams most romantic, And building air-castles whose size was gigantic.
From that morning on, the king stopped every day At some humble cottage along the highway, And begged for his horse the scraps of rich dough Which all the fair cooks seemed so glad to bestow; But, spite of his courtiers’ nudges and winks, Preserved his own counsel, close-mouthed as a sphinx; While each damsel tried, as a matter of pride, To see who the largest amount could provide. And his. horse, which seemed to approve the whole matter, Kept on every day growing fatter and fatter.
“And begged for his horse the bits of rich dough.”
Some weeks had thus passed when the cavalcade stood In front of a house at the edge of a woad, From whose shadows came tipping a shy little maid, Abashed by the splendor before her displayed. She heard with surprise the king’s usual question, And gasped with dismay at the very suggestion, “Rlhe scrapings of deugh? I’m sorry it ’s so, But I never have even a crumb left, you know:
My mother has taught me it ’s wicked to waste The least little fragment of pie-crust or paste.
“I measure with care the smallest ingredient, To make the amount which she thinks is expedient. And into the dough she says that I must Most carefully work every scrap of the crust; And if all has been planned exactly and true, My molding-board 's clean when I am quite through. Yes; there in the oven are my pies in a row, And here is my board without one scrap of dough.”
“Economical maid!” the king cried in rapture, “You ’re exactly the one I’ve been trying to capture. Where others are reckless, you take pains to measure; The bits they would squander you frugally treasure; Their prodigal habits have filled me with scorn, But such thrift as yours a throne should adorn. So, unless you object, I command and direct The people to hail you the king's bride elect. You shall rule by my side over all this broad land”; And he bent low to kiss her tiny brown hand,
She trembled and blushed, quite unable to speak, And her long lashes lay in a fringe on her cheek; While proudly he led her out of the door, Rejoiced that his search was happily o’er; And cheer after cheer rent the soft morning air From the loyal young courtiers who stood waiting there. To the palace they wended, with triumph attended, And a great gala-week with a wedding was ended. And the king ne’er regretted throughout their long life The method he followed for choosing a wife.
