Once upon a time there was a King who had three
sons. The two eldest were lazy, good-for-nothing young men, but the third son,
whose name was Charming, was a delightful youth, who was loved by everybody
(outside his family) who knew him. Whenever he rode through the town the people
used to stop whatever work they were engaged upon and wave their caps and cry
"Hurrah for Prince Charming!"--and even after he had passed they
would continue to stop work, in case he might be coming back the same way, when
they would wave their caps and cry "Hurrah for Prince Charming!"
again. It was wonderful how fond of him they were.
But alas! his
father the King was not so fond. He preferred his eldest son; which was funny
of him, because he must have known that only the third and youngest son is ever
any good in a family. Indeed, the King himself had been a third son, so he had
really no excuse for ignorance on the point. I am afraid the truth was that he
was jealous of Charming, because the latter was so popular outside his family.
