THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES

Long ago, there was an Emperor. He loved new clothes more than anything. He spent all his money on fancy outfits.

He did not care about his soldiers. He did not care about plays or hunting. He only cared about showing off his new clothes. He had a different outfit for every hour of the day. Other kings sat in meetings to make big decisions. But people always said, "The Emperor is in his dressing room!"

Life was fun in his big city. Visitors came every day. One day, two tricksters came to town. They said they were weavers (people who make cloth). They said they could weave the most beautiful cloth ever. This cloth had a strange magic power. Anyone who was foolish, or bad at their job, could not see it at all!

"What wonderful clothes those would be!" thought the Emperor. "If I wore them, I could tell who in my kingdom is foolish! I could tell who is wise! I must have this cloth made right away." He gave the two weavers lots of money to start their work.

The two tricksters set up two looms (machines for weaving cloth). They pretended to work very hard. But really, they did nothing at all! They asked for fine silk and gold thread. Then they hid it in their own bags. They kept pretending to weave at the empty looms, late into the night.

"I wonder how the weavers are doing," the Emperor said to himself after a while. But he felt worried. What if he could not see the cloth? That would mean he was foolish, or unfit to be Emperor! He did not want to go see for himself. Instead, he decided to send someone else first.

Everyone in the city had heard about the magic cloth. They all wanted to find out who was wise and who was foolish.

"I will send my old, trusted minister (helper) to see the weavers," said the Emperor. "He is smart. He will tell me how the cloth looks."

So the old minister went to see the tricksters at their looms. "What is this?" he thought, opening his eyes wide. "I don't see any thread at all!" But he did not say this out loud.

The tricksters asked him to come closer. They asked if he liked the pattern and the colors. They pointed at the empty looms. The old minister looked and looked. He saw nothing—because there was nothing there!

"Could I be foolish?" he thought. "I never thought so before. No one must know if it's true! Could I be unfit for my job? No, that can't be said either. I will never admit I can't see the cloth."

"Well, sir," said one trickster, still pretending to work. "What do you think of the cloth?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" said the old minister, looking through his glasses at nothing. "This pattern, these colors—yes, I will tell the Emperor how beautiful it all is."

"Thank you," said the tricksters. Then they described colors and patterns that did not exist. The old minister listened closely so he could repeat it all to the Emperor. The tricksters asked for more silk and gold to finish the work. But they hid it all in their bags, just like before. They kept pretending to work at the empty looms.

Next, the Emperor sent another helper to check on the weavers. The same thing happened to him. He looked all around the looms but saw nothing except empty frames.

"Isn't the cloth beautiful?" the tricksters asked him, pointing at nothing.

"I am surely not foolish!" the man thought. "So I must be unfit for my job! That's strange—but no one will know." So he praised the cloth he could not see. He said the colors and patterns were lovely. "Your Majesty," he told the Emperor, "the cloth is amazing!"

Soon the whole city was talking about the wonderful cloth.

Now the Emperor wanted to see it himself. He brought along some helpers from his court, including the two men who had already praised the cloth. When the tricksters saw the Emperor coming, they worked even harder—though they still used no thread at all.

"Isn't it magnificent?" said the two helpers. "Look at this pattern! Look at these colors!" They pointed at the empty looms, sure that everyone else could see the beautiful cloth.

"What is this?" the Emperor thought. "I see nothing at all! This is terrible! Am I foolish? Am I unfit to be Emperor? That would be awful." But out loud he said, "Oh, the cloth is lovely! I am very pleased." He smiled and looked closely at the empty looms. He did not want to admit he saw nothing, when his own helpers had praised it so much.

All the other people in the room looked hard at the looms too. They saw nothing either. But they all said, "Oh, how beautiful!" They told the Emperor he should wear a new suit made from this cloth for an upcoming parade. "Wonderful! Lovely! Amazing!" people said on all sides. Everyone seemed very happy. The Emperor gave the tricksters a special medal and called them "Royal Weavers."

The night before the parade, the tricksters stayed up all night. They lit sixteen candles so everyone could see how hard they were working. They pretended to cut the cloth with scissors. They pretended to sew with needles that had no thread. "Look!" they said at last. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"

The Emperor came with all his important helpers to see the tricksters. The tricksters lifted their arms as if holding something up. "Here are the trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the coat!" they said. "This cloth is as light as a spiderweb. You'll feel like you're wearing nothing at all—that's how special it is!"

"Yes indeed!" said all the helpers, even though none of them could see anything.

"Now, if Your Majesty will take off your clothes," said the tricksters, "we will help you put on the new suit in front of the mirror."

The Emperor took off his clothes. The tricksters pretended to dress him in the new "suit." The Emperor turned this way and that in front of the mirror.

"How splendid he looks!" everyone cried. "What colors! What a pattern! These are truly royal clothes!"

"The special cover for the parade is ready and waiting," said the head of ceremonies.

"I am ready too," said the Emperor. He turned once more in front of the mirror, pretending to admire his "outfit."

The men who were supposed to carry the Emperor's long cloak bent down and pretended to lift it off the ground. They did not want anyone to think they were foolish or unfit for their jobs either.

So the Emperor walked under his fancy cover through the streets, in the middle of the parade. All the people watching, from the streets and the windows, said, "Oh! How beautiful are the Emperor's new clothes! Look at that long train! Look at that scarf!" No one wanted to admit they saw nothing—because that would mean they were foolish or unfit for their job. No outfit the Emperor had ever worn had impressed people so much!

Then a little child said, "But he doesn't have anything on at all!"

"Listen to the innocent child!" said the child's father. And people began to whisper what the child had said, one to another.

"He has nothing on at all!" the whole crowd shouted at last.

The Emperor felt very upset, because he knew the people were right. But he thought, "I must finish the parade now!" So he walked on, holding his head high. And his helpers kept pretending to carry a train—even though there was no train there at all.

THE SWINEHERD

Once there was a poor Prince who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small. But it was big enough to get married with. He wanted to get married.

It was bold of him to ask the Emperor's daughter, "Will you marry me?" But he asked anyway, because his name was known far and wide. A hundred princesses would have said, "Yes! Thank you!" Let's see what this princess said.

Listen to the story!

Where the Prince's father was buried, a rose tree grew. It was a very beautiful rose tree. It only bloomed once every five years. And even then, it grew only one flower. But what a rose it was! It smelled so sweet that anyone who breathed it in forgot all their worries and sadness.

The Prince also had a nightingale (a small bird known for its beautiful song). This bird could sing so sweetly, it seemed like every lovely tune in the world lived in her tiny throat.

So the Prince decided the Princess should have both the rose and the nightingale. He put them in large silver boxes and sent them to her.

The Emperor had them brought...