PART THREE

So sad the king was dead, (ha, ha!) but the queen was expecting his baby, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the goblin who had helped her and saved her life. But one day there he was, in her room, and he said, "Now give me your first-born, as you promised."

The queen was horror-struck and offered the goblin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the goblin said, "Don’t bother me with that rubbish, I don’t need it – I can spin straw into gold, as you know! Something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."

Then the queen began to lament and cry, crying always seemed to work for her in the past, and it did now - the goblin pitied her.

"I will give you three days," he said, "if by that time you can find out my true name, then you can keep your child."

So, the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the goblin came the next day, she began with the names, Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the other names she knew, one after another, but to everyone the little man said, "No! Not my name."

On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighbourhood, and she repeated to the goblin the most uncommon and curious names she found. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, "No! Not my name."

On the third day the messenger came back from his searching, and said, "I’m not sure if this is much help, your Majesty, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare say good night to each other, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire an odd little goblin was dancing, he hopped upon one leg, and sang -

'Today I bake, tomorrow I brew,

My true name no one ever knew.

Ha, glad am I to play this game

For Rumpelstiltskin is my name.'"

You can imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, mistress queen, what is my true name?"

At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"

"No."

"Is your name Harry?"

"No."

“Donald?”

“No.”

“Boris?”

“No.”

“Lifeng?”

“No.”

"Then your true name must be - Rumpelstiltskin!"

"The devil has told you that! Only the devil knows my true name!" Cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in a rage, he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two and never recovered from the injury. Not fair, really. Poor thing.

The Queen married a nice man and lived happily ever after.

THE END