The Pink

A queen had no children. Each morning she walked her garden and prayed for a son or a daughter. An angel told her to rest easy: she would bear a boy who could wish, and whatever he wished in the world would come to pass. She shared the news with the king; in due time the child was born, and the king rejoiced.

She used to carry the infant to a menagerie garden and bathe in a clear brook. One day, the boy a little older, he slept in her arms and she dozed too. The palace cook, who knew of the wishing gift, snatched the child, slaughtered a hen, and smeared its blood on her apron and gown. He hid the boy with a nurse, then told the king that wild beasts had torn the child from her. The bloodstains convinced the king. In fury he built a windowless tower, sealed his wife inside, and left her seven years without food or drink to starve. Heaven sent two angels as white doves; twice daily they brought her nourishment until the years ended.

The cook feared the boy’s wishes might rebound on him. He quit the palace, found the child—now able to talk—and told him to wish up a fine house with gardens and all fittings. The words were barely spoken before the palace stood complete. Later the cook said solitude was unhealthy—wish for a pretty companion. Instantly a girl appeared, lovelier than any portrait. They played and loved each other deeply while the cook swaggered about hunting like a lord.

Afraid the prince might wish himself back to his father and expose him, the cook drew the girl aside. “Tonight, while the boy sleeps, drive this knife into his heart and bring me his heart and tongue, or you shall die yourself.” She refused at first. “Why should I kill an innocent boy who never hurt a soul?” He threatened her life again. After he left she had a young hind killed, plated its heart and tongue, and told the prince to hide under the bedclothes. When the cook demanded the boy’s heart and tongue she held out the plate—then the prince flung back the covers. “For trying to murder me,” he said, “become a black poodle with a gold collar, and eat burning coals until fire shoots from your throat.” At once the man was a collared poodle; live coals were brought, and he ate until flames leapt from his mouth.

After a time the prince thought of his mother and whether she lived. He asked the maiden to travel home with him; he would care for her. She dreaded the long road and a land where nobody knew her. Unwilling to part, he wished her into a beautiful pink blossom and carried her along, the poodle trotting behind. At his mother’s tower he wished a ladder to the summit, climbed, and called to ask if she lived. She answered she had eaten and was content—taking him for the angel-doves. He told her he was the son beasts were said to have stolen, alive, and would free her soon. Below, he offered himself to the king as a foreign huntsman. The king hired him if he could supply game—though deer never stayed in that country. The youth gathered the royal huntsmen, set a wide ring with one open end, stood in the gap, and wished. More than two hundred deer poured in; the shooters dropped them. Sixty farm carts hauled the meat home, and the king’s table saw venison after years of none.

Overjoyed, the king ordered a household feast next day and seated the clever huntsman at his side despite protests of low birth. There the son wished that some high officer would ask after the queen in the tower. Instantly the marshal wondered aloud how she fared—alive or dead? The king snapped that she had let beasts destroy his heir and must not be named. Then the huntsman stood. “Father, she lives, and I am her son. No beast took me; the cook tore me from her sleeping arms and stained her with a hen’s blood.” He pointed to the gold-collared dog as that villain and made it gulp live coals before the court until fire burst from its throat. He offered to restore the dog’s human shape; at his wish the cook stood again in apron with knife. The king, enraged, cast him into the deepest dungeon. The son asked leave to show the maiden who raised him and spared him though ordered to kill. Drawing the pink from his pocket, he wished her human; she appeared in her beauty. The queen left the tower, but lived only three more days. When she was buried, the dove-angels settled on her grave. The cook was torn in four by the king’s order, yet grief wasted the old king too, and he died soon after. The prince wed the maiden he had carried as a flower, and whether they live yet is known only to God.

Where this story comes from

This tale comes from the Grimm collection (Germany). Margaret Hunt’s 1884 translation lists it as number 76, Die Nelke, and the English text followed here is the Gutenberg one that draws on Taylor and Edwardes. A pink is a carnation-like garden flower.

The linked version makes the child’s wishes powerful enough to create a palace, change people and summon animals. It does not make the adults’ judgments reliable: the king accepts planted blood as proof and orders a terrible punishment.

The cook’s crimes, the queen’s imprisonment and the violent punishments remain in this adaptation. The exposure of the truth does not undo the years taken from the queen.

Read the original: Grimms’ Fairy Tales, tr. Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes (Project Gutenberg #2591, The Pink)

Reading guidance: older readers. Includes child abduction, attempted killing, imprisonment meant to cause starvation, torture with burning coals and a graphic execution. The ending offers recognition but cannot restore the queen’s lost years.

Reading the story closely

Blood is used twice to make an absent person seem dead: the hen’s blood condemns the queen, while the hind’s organs help the girl protect the boy. The reader knows how both displays were made, but the people receiving them do not. The boy later controls appearances through wishes as well, including the companion’s flower form despite her hesitation about leaving.

Make a record of each transformation or staged piece of evidence: who arranges it, who believes it and who benefits. Compare the girl’s refusal to kill with the prince’s torture of the cook. Having the power to reverse a shape does not make every use of that power caring or fair.

Talk about it

• How did the cook make the king believe the queen had lost the baby?
• Why did the girl refuse to kill the prince, even though the cook threatened her?
• If you could wish for anything, as the prince could, how would you make sure you used it well?

Related stories

• The Six Swans — a Grimm queen falsely accused of harming her children who cannot defend herself
• Fundevogel — a Grimm girl who protects a boy from a cook who wants to harm him
• The King of the Golden Mountain — a long Grimm tale about a son who wins a kingdom and returns home