there was once a poor Prince， who had akingdom. His kingdom was very small，but still quitelarge enough to marry upon; and he wished tomarry.
It was certainly rather cool of him to say to theEmperor's daughter， “Will you have me?” But sohe did; for his name was renowned far and wide;and there were a hundred princesses who wouldhave answered， “Yes!” and “Thank you kindly.” Weshall see what this princess said.
Listen!
It happened that where the Prince's father lay buried， there GREw a rose tree——a mostbeautiful rose tree， which blossomed only once in every five years， and even then bore onlyone flower， but that was a rose! It smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgottenby him who inhaled its fragrance.
And furthermore， the Prince had a nightingale， who could sing in such a manner that itseemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the Princess was to have therose， and the nightingale; and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets， and sentto her.
the Emperor had them brought into a large hall， where the Princess was playing at“Visiting，” with the ladies of the court; and when she saw the caskets with the presents， sheclapped her hands for joy.
“Ah， if it were but a little pussy-cat!” said she; but the rose tree， with its beautiful rosecame to view.
“Oh， how prettily it is made!” said all the court ladies.
“It is more than pretty，” said the Emperor， “it is charming!”
But the Princess touched it， and was almost ready to cry.
“Fie， papa!” said she. “It is not made at all， it is natural!”
“Let us see what is in the other casket， before we get into a bad humor，” said theEmperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so delightfully that at first no one could sayanything ill-humored of her.
“Superbe! Charmant!” exclaimed the ladies; for they all used to chatter French，eachone worse than her neighbor.
“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessedEmpress，” said an old knight. “Oh yes! These are the same tones， the same execution.”
“Yes! yes!” said the Emperor， and he wept like a child at the remembrance.
“I will still hope that it is not a real bird，” said the Princess.
“Yes， it is a real bird，” said those who had brought it. “Well then let the bird fly，” saidthe Princess; and she positively refused to see the Prince.
However， he was not to be discouraged; he daubed his face over brown and black;pulled his cap over his ears， and knocked at the door.
“Good day to my lord， the Emperor!” said he. “Can I have employment at the palace?”
“Why， yes，” said the Emperor. “I want some one to take care of the pigs， for we have aGREat many of them.”
So the Prince was appointed “Imperial Swineherd.” He had a dirty little room close by thepigsty; and there he sat the whole day， and worked. By the evening he had made a prettylittle kitchen-pot. Little bells were hung all round it; and when the pot was boiling， these bellstinkled in the most charming manner， and played the old melody，
“Ach! du lieber Augustin，Alles ist weg， weg， weg!”*
* “Ah! dear Augustine!
All is gone， gone， gone!“
But what was still more curious， whoever held his finger in the smoke of the kitchen-pot， immediately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth in the city——this，you see， was something quite different from the rose.
Now the Princess happened to walk that way; and when she heard the tune， she stoodquite still， and seemed pleased; for she could play “Lieber Augustine”;it was the only pieceshe knew; and she played it with one finger.
“Why there is my piece，” said the Princess. “That swineherd must certainly have been welleducated! Go in and ask him the price of theinstrument.”
So one of the court-ladies must run in;however， she drew on wooden slippers first.
“What will you take for the kitchen-pot?” saidthe lady.
“I will have ten kisses from the Princess，” saidthe swineherd.
“Yes， indeed!” said the lady.
“I cannot sell it for less，” rejoined the swineherd.
“He is an impudent fellow!” said the Princess， and she walked on; but when she hadgone a little way， the bells tinkled so prettily
“Ach! du lieber Augustin，Alles ist weg， weg， weg!”