Though he begged, he was king and could seize them by right,

so the eldest agreed.  “But, sir, only at night.

No candles, no lanterns nor such kind of light

for if you saw me naked I’d perish from fright.”

One night it was dark and the moon did not shine.

Her skin was tied back with a long piece of twine.

Having shored up her courage with tankards of wine,

she flopped on his bed and she lay there, supine.

The king could not smell her.  Her odor was bad,

but he’d smeared on himself all the perfume he had.

It was when they embraced and he felt that skin pad

he discovered the ruse.  And he nearly went mad.

“She’s not young!  She’s disgusting!’’ he said with a shout.

He opened a window and threw the hag out.

The fall would have killed her without any doubt

but she snagged on a branch and hung twisting about.

Some fairies were passing.  Their mouths opened wide.

The sight so amused them they laughed ‘til they cried.

Then on impulse they laid on her spells to provide

her with youth, luck and loveliness, fair as a bride.

At dawn she sat under the tree on a throne,

a virtual princess in place of a crone.

The king saw her there.  “Oh, how could I have known?”

He flew down the stairs.  “Well be married, my own.”