Children's stories, American; Fairy tales; Fairy tales -- United States; Short stories
“Can’t I marry a mother, instead?” asked the poor little king, who had
lost his mother when a baby.
“Certainly not,” declared the counselor. “To marry a mother would be
illegal; to marry a wife is right and proper.”
“Can’t you marry her yourself?” inquired his majesty, aiming his
peg-top at the chief counselor’s toe, and laughing to see how he jumped
to escape it.
“Let me explain,” said the other. “You haven’t a penny in the world,
but you have a kingdom. There are many rich women who would be glad to
give their wealth in exchange for a queen’s coronet—even if the king is
but a child. So we have decided to advertise that the one who bids the
highest shall become the queen of Quok.”
“If I must marry at all,” said the king, after a moment’s thought, “I
prefer to marry Nyana, the armorer’s daughter.”
“She is too poor,” replied the counselor.
“Her teeth are pearls, her eyes are amethysts, and her hair is gold,”
declared the little king.
“True, your majesty. But consider that your wife’s wealth must be used.
How would Nyana look after you have pulled her teeth of pearls, plucked
out her amethyst eyes and shaved her golden head?”
The boy shuddered.
“Have your own way,” he said, despairingly. “Only let the lady be as
dainty as possible and a good playfellow.”
“We shall do our best,” returned the chief counselor, and went away to
advertise throughout the neighboring kingdoms for a wife for the boy
king of Quok.
There were so many applicants for the privilege of marrying the little
king that it was decided to put him up at auction, in order that the
largest possible sum of money should be brought into the kingdom. So,
on the day appointed, the ladies gathered at the palace from all the
surrounding kingdoms—from Bilkon, Mulgravia, Junkum and even as far
away as the republic of Macvelt.
The chief counselor came to the palace early in the morning and had the
king’s face washed and his hair combed; and then he padded the inside
of the crown with old newspapers to make it small enough to fit his
majesty’s head. It was a sorry looking crown, having many big and
little holes in it where the jewels had once been; and it had been
neglected and knocked around until it was quite battered and tarnished.
Yet, as the counselor said, it was the king’s crown, and it was quite
proper he should wear it on the solemn occasion of his auction.
Like all boys, be they kings or paupers, his majesty had torn and
soiled his one suit of clothes, so that they were hardly presentable;
and there was no money to buy new ones. Therefore the counselor wound
the old ermine robe around the king and sat him upon the stool in the
middle of the otherwise empty audience chamber.
And around him stood all the courtiers and politicians and hangers-on
of the kingdom, consisting of such people as were too proud or lazy to
work for a living. There was a great number of them, you may be sure,
and they made an imposing appearance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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