ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES

By Hans Christian Andersen

CONTENTS

The Emperor's New Clothes
The Swineherd
The Real Princess
The Shoes of Fortune
The Fir Tree
The Snow Queen
The Leap-Frog
The Elderbush
The Bell
The Old House
The Happy Family
The Story of a Mother
The False Collar
The Shadow
The Little Match Girl
The Dream of Little Tuk
The Naughty Boy
The Red Shoes

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES

A long time ago, there was an Emperor who loved new clothes so much that he spent all his money on them. He didn't care about his soldiers. He didn't even care about going to plays or hunting trips, unless they gave him a chance to show off his new outfits. He had a different outfit for every hour of the day. People usually say a ruler "is in a meeting," but for this Emperor, people always said, "The Emperor is in his closet."

Life was busy and fun in the big city where he lived. Visitors came to his palace every day. One day, two tricksters arrived, pretending to be weavers (people who make cloth). They said they knew how to make the most beautiful cloth, with amazing colors and patterns. But this cloth had a strange magic power: it was invisible to anyone who was not fit for their job, or who was very foolish.

"Those must be wonderful clothes!" thought the Emperor. "If I wore them, I could tell which of my men are bad at their jobs. I could also tell who is wise and who is foolish! I must have this cloth woven for me right away." So he gave the two men a lot of money to start their work immediately.

The two fake weavers set up two looms (machines for weaving cloth) and pretended to work very hard, even though they weren't really doing anything at all. They asked for the finest silk and the purest gold thread. Then they hid the silk and thread in their own bags and kept pretending to work at the empty looms, late into the night.

"I'd like to know how the weavers are doing with my cloth," the Emperor said to himself after some time had passed. But he felt a little worried. He remembered that anyone foolish, or unfit for their job, would not be able to see the cloth at all. He was sure he himself had nothing to worry about. Still, he thought it would be smarter to send someone else first, to check on the weavers before he went himself. Meanwhile, everyone in the city had heard about the magical cloth. They were all curious to find out who among their neighbors was wise, and who was foolish.

"I will send my trusted old advisor to see the weavers," the Emperor finally decided. "He will be able to judge the cloth well, since he is smart, and no one is more fit for his job than he is."

So the loyal old advisor went to the hall where the tricksters were working hard at their empty looms. "What is going on here?" he thought, opening his eyes wide. "I can't see any thread on these looms at all!" But he did not say this out loud.

The tricksters politely asked him to come closer to the looms. They asked if he liked the design, and if the colors were not beautiful, all while pointing at the empty frames. The poor old advisor looked and looked, but he couldn't see anything on the looms — because there was nothing there. "Wait," he thought. "Am I foolish? I never thought I was. No one must find out if that's true. Could it be that I'm not fit for my job? No, that can't be said either. I will never admit that I couldn't see the cloth."

"Well, Sir Advisor," said one of the tricksters, still pretending to weave. "You haven't told us if you like the fabric."

"Oh, it's wonderful!" said the old advisor, looking through his glasses at the loom. "This pattern, and these colors — yes, I will tell the Emperor right away how beautiful I think they are."

"We are very grateful," said the tricksters. Then they described the colors and patterns of the pretend cloth in detail. The old advisor listened closely so he could repeat it all to the Emperor. Then the tricksters asked for more silk and gold thread, saying they needed it to finish the job. But they hid everything they were given in their bags, and kept pretending to work busily at their empty looms.

The Emperor then sent another palace officer to check on the weavers and see if the cloth was almost ready. The same thing happened to him as to the advisor — he looked all around the looms but could see nothing except the empty frames.

"Doesn't the cloth look just as beautiful to you as it did to the advisor?" the tricksters asked this second messenger, making the same movements as before and describing colors and patterns that weren't really there.

"I am certainly not foolish!" thought the messenger. "So I must not be fit for my important job! That's strange — but no one will find out." So he praised the cloth he could not see and said he loved both the colors and the patterns. "Your Majesty," he told the Emperor when he returned, "the cloth the weavers are making is truly amazing."

Soon the whole city was talking about the wonderful cloth the Emperor had paid for.

Now the Emperor wanted to see the expensive cloth for himself, while it was still on the loom. He brought along a group of important officers, including the two men who had already praised the cloth. They went to see the clever tricksters, who kept working hard as soon as they saw the Emperor coming — although they still didn't use a single thread.

"Isn't this work amazing?" said the two officers who had seen it before. "Just look at it, Your Majesty! What a beautiful design! What wonderful colors!" They pointed at the empty frames, believing that everyone else must be able to see this fine cloth.

"What is happening?" the Emperor thought to himself. "I can't see anything at all! This is terrible! Am I foolish, or am I not fit to be Emperor? That would be the worst thing possible — oh, but the cloth is lovely," he said out loud. "I like it very much." He smiled warmly and studied the empty looms closely, since he would never admit he couldn't see what two of his officers had praised so much. All the people with him strained their eyes too, hoping to see something on the looms, but they saw nothing more than the others had. Still, they all cried out, "Oh, how beautiful!" and told the Emperor he should have new clothes made from this wonderful fabric for the next big parade. "Magnificent! Lovely! Excellent!" people said from every side, and everyone seemed very happy. The Emperor felt pleased too, and he gave the tricksters medals to wear and the special title of "Royal Weavers."

The tricksters stayed up all night before the day of the parade, burning sixteen candles so everyone could see how hard they were working to finish the Emperor's new suit. They pretended to take the cloth off the looms, cut the air with scissors, and sewed with needles that had no thread in them. "Look!" they finally called out. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"

The Emperor came with all his important lords to see the weavers. The tricksters lifted their arms as if they were holding something up, saying, "Here are your Majesty's pants! Here is the scarf! Here is the robe! The whole suit is as light as a spider's web — you'll feel like you're wearing nothing at all. That's what makes this cloth so special."

"Yes, of course!" said all the lords, even though none of them could see anything at all.

"If Your Majesty would please take off your clothes, we will help you put on the new suit in front of the mirror."

So the Emperor undressed, and the tricksters pretended to dress him in the new suit, while he turned from side to side in front of the mirror.

"How wonderful His Majesty looks in his new clothes! How well they fit!" everyone shouted. "What a design! What colors! These are truly royal robes!"

"The canopy for the parade is ready and waiting for Your Majesty," announced the head of ceremonies.

"I am ready," said the Emperor, turning again in front of the mirror to seem like he was admiring his fine new suit.

The lords who were supposed to carry the Emperor's train reached down and pretended to lift the ends of his robe off the ground, carrying something that wasn't really there — because none of them wanted to seem foolish or unfit for their jobs.

So the Emperor walked proudly under his tall canopy in the middle of the parade, through the streets of his city. All the people watching, both on the streets and at their windows, cried out, "Oh, how beautiful are the Emperor's new clothes! What a wonderful train on that robe, and how nicely the scarf hangs!" No one wanted to admit that they could not see the clothes everyone praised, because that would mean they were either foolish or unfit for their job. None of the Emperor's other outfits had ever been so admired as these invisible ones.

"But the Emperor isn't wearing anything at all!" said a little child.

"Listen to that honest child!" said the child's father, and soon everyone was whispering what the child had said.

"But he has nothing on at all!" the whole crowd finally shouted.
The Emperor felt very embarrassed, because deep down he knew they were right. But he thought, "The parade must go on now!" So he held his head up even higher, and the lords kept pretending to carry a train that wasn't there at all.

THE SWINEHERD

Once there was a poor Prince who ruled a small kingdom. It wasn't a big kingdom, but it was plenty big enough to get married with, and the Prince wanted a wife.

It was pretty bold of him to ask the Emperor's daughter, "Will you marry me?" But that's just what he did, because his name was famous everywhere. In fact, a hundred princesses would have happily said, "Yes! Thank you!" But let's find out what this particular princess said.

Listen closely!

Where the Prince's father was buried, a rose tree grew — a truly beautiful rose tree that only bloomed once every five years, and even then, it grew just one flower. But oh, what a rose it was! Its sweet smell could make anyone forget their worries and sadness.

The Prince also owned a nightingale (a small bird known for its beautiful song) that sang so wonderfully, it seemed like every lovely tune in the world lived inside its tiny throat. The Prince decided to send both the rose and the nightingale to the Princess. He placed them in large silver boxes and sent them to her.

The Emperor had them brought i