Once more the artist summoned the prince and his courtiers, and once more the statue was unveiled.  Again the Elector exclaimed at its beauty, and then he turned to his courtiers, one after another, to see what they had to say.

“Perfect!” said the first.  “Now that the horse’s head is in proportion, there is not a flaw.”

“The change in the neck was just what was needed,” said the second; “it is very graceful now.”

“The rear right foot is as it should be, now,” said a third, “and it adds so much to the beauty of the whole!”

The fourth said that he considered the tail greatly improved.

“My courtiers are much pleased now,” said the prince to Herr Grupello; “they think the statue much improved by the changes you have made.”

Herr Grupello smiled a little.  “I am glad they are pleased,” he said, “but the fact is, I have changed nothing!”

“What do you mean?” said the prince in surprise.  “Have we not heard the sound of hammering every day?  What were you hammering at then?”

“I was hammering at the reputation of your courtiers, who found fault simply because they were jealous,” said the artist.  “And I rather think that their reputation is pretty well hammered to pieces!”

It was, indeed.  The Elector laughed heartily, but the courtiers slunk away, one after another, without a word.

PRINCE CHERRY[1]

[1] A shortened version of the familiar tale.

There was once an old king, so wise and kind and true that the most powerful good fairy of his land visited him and asked him to name the dearest wish of his heart, that she might grant it.

“Surely you know it,” said the good king; “it is for my only son, Prince Cherry; do for him whatever you would have done for me.”

“Gladly,” said the great fairy; “choose what I shall give him.  I can make him the richest, the most beautiful, or the most powerful prince in the world; choose.”

“None of those things are what I want,” said the king.  “I want only that he shall be good.  Of what use will it be to him to be beautiful, rich, or powerful, if he grows into a bad man?  Make him the best prince in the world, I beg you!”

“Alas, I cannot make him good,” said the fairy; “he must do that for himself.  I can give him good advice, reprove him when he does wrong, and punish him if he will not punish himself; I can and will be his best friend, but I cannot make him good unless he wills it.”

The king was sad to hear this, but he rejoiced in the friendship of the fairy for his son.  And when he died, soon after, he was happy to know that he left Prince Cherry in her hands.

Prince Cherry grieved for his father and often lay awake at night, thinking of him.  One night, when he was all alone in his room, a soft and lovely light suddenly shone before him, and a beautiful vision stood at his side.  It was the good fairy.  She was clad in robes of dazzling white, and on her shining hair she wore a wreath of white roses.