Meanwhile Rosella continued her way, and at last became curious to know what was in the box she was carrying. So she opened it, and a great quantity of little puppets came out; some danced, some sang, and some played on musical instruments.
This could get really creepy really quickly, and if I was writing it, it would.
She amused herself some time with them; but when she was ready to go on, the little figures would not return to the box. Night approached, and she exclaimed, as she had so often before: —
“Ah! King of Love,” etc.
I kinda like to think that she’s actually saying “Ah, King of Love, etc!” and he’s appearing anyway.
Then her husband appeared and said, “Oh, your curiosity will be the death of you!” and commanded the puppets to enter the box again.
You never said not to open the box! Not opening the box was never mentioned! IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN RADISHES, BOB.
Then Rosella went her way, and arrived safely at her mother-in-law’s. When the ogress saw her she exclaimed: “You owe this luck to my son, the King of Love!” and was going to devour poor Rosella, but her daughters said: “Poor child! she has brought you the box; why do you want to eat her?”
There was all that pinching earlier, but let’s let bygones be bygones, since you did send her to deliver a letter to a cannibal. Another cannibal, anyhow.
“Well and good. You want to marry my son, the King of Love; then take these six mattresses, and go and fill them with birds’ feathers!”
Rosella descended, and began to wander about, uttering her usual lament.
Somewhat muffled by the weight of all the mattresses that she was carrying.
When her husband appeared Rosella told him what had happened. He whistled and the King of the Birds appeared, and commanded all the birds to come and drop their feathers, fill the six beds, and carry them back to the ogress, who again said that her son had helped Rosella.
You know, in a better fairy tale, Rosella would have saved a bird at some point and succeed through her own virtue, not because she keeps going “King of Love, etc!” and her husband pops up and happens to know the King of Birds. I mean, it’s great that he’s well connected and all …
However, she went and made up her son’s bed with the six mattresses, and that very day she made him marry the daughter of the King of Portugal.
… Really, really well-connected …
Then she called Rosella, and, telling her that her son was married, bade her kneel before the nuptial bed, holding two lighted torches.
Okay, that’s pretty brutal. “You, kneel here and hold the light while your husband gets it on with his new wife.” Ogress gets points for psychological torture.
Rosella obeyed, but soon the King of Love, under the plea that Rosella was not in a condition to hold the torches any longer, persuaded his bride to change places with her.
Um … what?
“Honey, my pregnant ex-wife is really tired, will you take the torches for a bit while she lies in the bed?”
The daughter of the King of Portugal is either a sweetheart who is being very nice about this, or is incomprehensibly stupid.
Then again, Bird-boy seems to attract women like that.
Just as the queen took the torches in her hands, the earth opened and swallowed her up, and the king remained happy with Rosella.
… I really, really hope that the queen was being stupid, or else a very nice woman trying to help out the servant girl with swollen ankles just got swallowed up by the earth.
Either way, this seems like it would cause an international incident.
When the ogress heard what had happened she clasped her hands over her head, and declared that Rosella’s child should not be born until she unclasped her hands.
This is kind of a neat curse. Pregnant women hearing this curse cross their legs and wince. “You’re gonna carry that baby until he’s ready for college!”
Then the King of Love had a catafalque erected, and stretched himself on it as though he were dead, and had all the bells tolled, and made the people cry, “How did the King of Love die?”
The ogress heard it, and asked: “What is that noise?”
Her daughters told her that their brother was dead from her fault. When the ogress heard this she unclasped her hands, saying, “How did my son die?”
At that moment Rosella’s child was born. When the ogress heard it she burst a blood-vessel (in her heart) and died. Then the King of Love took his wife and sisters, and they remained happy and contented.
Okay, so that was a reasonably clever trick by the King of Love, who is the only one who shows an ounce of brain-power in this entire fairy tale, but what about the daughter of the King of Portugal? Is the King of Portugal mad? And at no point was the bit where the King turns into a bird ever referred to a curse or anything else, so presumably Rosella’s just married to a were-bird.
Which is fine. I’m not here to judge. You want to marry a were-bird, you live happily ever after with your bad self.
I do wonder if every time she wanted him to do something, she’d do the “Ah King of Love, etc!” and he’d have to appear. “Hmm, gonna need him to pick up some milk. Ah, King of Love —!”
“HONEY I WAS IN THE BATHROOM!”
And now, a few final thoughts from Crane …
There is another version of this story in Pitre (No. 281) entitled, “The Crystal King,” which resembles more closely the classic myth.
A father marries the youngest of his three daughters to a cavalier (the enchanted son of a king) who comes to his wife at night only. The cavalier once permits his wife to visit her sisters, and they learn from her that she has never seen her husband’s face. The eldest gives her a wax candle, and tells her to
