“What an interesting wasy you have of telling a story!” said the Carpet Broom. “One can tell directly that the narrator is a woman. There’s something pure runs through it.”
“Yes, one feels that,” said the Water Pot, and out of delight it gave a little hop, so that there was a splash one the floor.
And the Pot went on telling her story, and the end was as good as the beginning.
All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom brought some green parsley out of the dust hole, and put it like a wreath on the Pot, for he knew that it would vex the others. “If I crown her today,” it thought, “she will crown me tomorrow.”
“Now I’ll dance,” said the Fire Tongs, and she danced. Presereve us! how that implement could lift up one leg! The old Chair Cushion burst to see it.“Shall I be crowned too?” thought the Tongs; and indeed a wreath was awarded.
“They’re only common people, after all!” thought the Matches.
Now the Tea Urn was to sing; but she said she had taken cold, and could not sing unless she felt boiling within. But that was only affectation; she did not want to sing, except when she was in the parlour with the grand people,
“In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid generally wrote: there was nothing remarkable about this Pen, except that it had been dipped too deep into the ink, but she was proud of that. ‘If the Tea Urn won’t sing,’ she said, ‘she may leave it alone. Outside hangs a nightingale in a cage, and he can sing. He hasn’t had any education, but this evening we’ll say nothing about that.’”
“I think it very wrong, ” said the Tea Kettle-he was the kitchen singer, and halfbrother to the Tea Urn-“that that rich and foreign bird should be listened to! Is that patriotic? Let the Market Basket decide.”
“I am vexed, ” said the Market Basket.“No one can imagine how much I am secretly vexed. Is that a proper way of spending the evening? Would it not be more sensible toput the house in order? Let each one go to his own place, and I would arrange the whole game. That would be quite another thing.”
“Yes, let us make a disturbance.” cried they all. Then the door opened, and the maid came in, and they all stood still; not one stirred. But there was not one pot among them who did not know what he could do, and how grand he was. “Yes, if I had liked,” each one thought, “it might have been avery merry evening.”
“The servant girl took the Matches and lighted the fire with them. Mercy! how they sputtered and burst out into flame!“Now everyone can see,” thought they, “that we are the first. How we shine! what a light!”-and they burned out.”
“That was a capital story,” said the Sultana.“ I feel myself quite carried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, now thou shalt marry our daughter.”
“Yes, certainly,” said the Sultan, “thou shalt marry our daughter on Monday.”
And they called him thou,because he was to belong to the family.
The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before it the whole city was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were thrown among the people, the street boys stood on their toes, called out “Hurrah!” and whistled on their fingers. It was uncommonly splendid.
“Yes, I shall have to give something as a treat,” thought the merchant’s son. So he bought rockets and crackers, and every imaginable sort of firework, put them all into his trunk, and flew up into the air.
“Crack!” how they went, and how they went off!
All the Turks hopped up with such a start that their slippers flew about their ears; such a meteor they had never yet seen. Now they could understand that it must be a Turkish angel who ws going to marry the Princess.
As soon as the merchant’s son descended again into the forest with his trunk, he thougth,“I will go into the town now, and hear how it all looked.” And it was quite natural that he wanted to do so.
What stories people told! Every one whom he asked about it had sen it in a separate way; but one and all thought it fine.
“I saw the Turkish angel himself, ” said one.“ He had eyes like glowing stars, and a beard like foaming water.”
“He flew in a fiery mantle,” said another,“the most lovely little cherub peeped forth from among the folds.”
Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard; and on the following day he was to be married.
Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. But what had become of that? A spark from the fireworks had set fire to it, and the trunk was burned to ashes.
He could not fly any more, and could not get to hisbride.
She stood all day on the roof waiting; and most likely she is waiting still. But he wanders through the world telling fairy tales; but they are not so merry as that one he told about the Matches.