Now the farm was a royal farm, and, one holiday, when ‘Donkey
Skin' (as they had nicknamed the princess) had locked the door of
her room and clothed herself in her dress of sunshine, the king's
son rode through the gate, and asked if he might come and rest
himself a little after hunting. Some food and milk were set
before him in the garden, and when he felt rested he got up, and
began to explore the house, which was famous throughout the whole
kingdom for its age and beauty. He opened one door after the
other, admiring the old rooms, when he came to a handle that
would not turn. He stooped and peeped through the keyhole to see
what was inside, and was greatly astonished at beholding a
beautiful girl, clad in a dress so dazzling that he could hardly
look at it.

The dark gallery seemed darker than ever as he turned away, but
he went back to the kitchen and inquired who slept in the room at
the end of the passage. The scullery maid, they told him, whom
everybody laughed at, and called ‘ Donkey Skin;' and though he
perceived there was some strange mystery about this, he saw quite
clearly there was nothing to be gained by asking any more
questions. So he rode back to the palace, his head filled with
the vision he had seen through the keyhole.

All night long he tossed about, and awoke the next morning in a
high fever. The queen, who had no other child, and lived in a
state of perpetual anxiety about this one, at once gave him up
for lost, and indeed his sudden illness puzzled the greatest
doctors, who tried the usual remedies in vain. At last they told
the queen that some secret sorrow must be at the bottom of all
this, and she threw herself on her knees beside her son's bed,