This time the king thought he had invented something totally impossible, and was quite pleased with himself for his cleverness. Thirty-nine days passed, and at midnight on the night of the last the old woman was standing on the bridge. “Bekir! Bekir! Bekir!” cried she. And a negro appeared, and inquired what she wanted. “The head, your master, bids you find forty slaves of unequalled beauty, and of the same height, and place them in the sultan’s palace on the other side of the garden.” And when, on the morning of the fortieth day, the sultan went to the blue palace, and was received by the forty slaves, he nearly lost his wits from surprise. “I will assuredly give my daughter to the old woman’s son,” thought he. “If I were to search all the world through I could never find a more powerful son-in-law.” And when the old woman entered his presence he informed her that he was ready to fulfil his promise, and she was to bid her son appear at the palace without delay. This command did not at all please the old woman, though, of course, she made no objections to the sultan. “All has gone well so far,” she grumbled, when she told her story to the head,” but what do you suppose the sultan will say, when he sees his daughter’s husband?” “Never mind what he says! Put me on a silver dish and carry me to the palace.” So it was done, though the old woman’s heart beat as she laid down the dish with the head upon it. At the sight before him the king flew into a violent rage. “I will never marry my daughter to such a monster,” he cried. But the princess placed her head gently on his arm. “You have given your word, my father, and you cannot break it,” said she. “But, my child, it is impossible for you to marry such a being,” exclaimed the sultan. “Yes, I will marry him. He had a beautiful head, and I love him already.” So the marriage was celebrated, and great feasts were held in the palace, though the people wept tears to think of the sad fate of their beloved princess. But when the merry-making was done, and the young couple were alone, the head suddenly disappeared, or, rather, a body was added to it, and one of the handsomest young men that ever was seen stood before the princess. “A wicked fairy enchanted me at my birth,” he said, “and for the rest of the world I must always be a head only. But for you, and you only, I am a man like other men.” “And that is all I care about,” said the princess. [Traditions populaires de toutes les nations (Asie Mineure)]. The Sister of the Sun