One morning a king stood in his doorway. He looked out on all the land he owned, and he had but one thought: “I want more.”
The land next door to the king’s land was owned by a farmer. So the king sent for the farmer and said, “Well sir, I have decided to increase my land holdings, and your farm is the land I’m going to increase my holdings by. Now, I am the king, so I could just take your land, but I believe in being fair. I am going to ask you three questions, riddles you might call them. If you can come back here in the morning with three real fine answers to these questions, you can keep your land. If you don’t come back with three real fine answers, your land becomes part of my land.
“Here are your three questions: First, what is it that’s fastest in all the world? Second, what is it that’s richest in all the world? Third, what is it that’s sweetest in all the word? Now, go on home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The farmer went home. He could not believe what had happened. He sat at his kitchen table, head in his hands, moaning, “I should have seen this coming. I should have seen this coming.” You see, at one time there had been several farms between the farmer’s farm and the king’s land. But one by one, each of those other farms had become part of the king’s land. “This must be how it happened. This must be how it happened.” There the farmer sat, feeling miserable, when his oldest daughter walked in.
“Daddy, you look awful! What’s wrong?”
The farmer told his daughter all about the king wanting the land and the king’s three questions. The farmer’s daughter thought a bit. Then she said, “Daddy, I can give you answers to those questions. Tomorrow morning, you go tell the king the fastest thing in all the world is nothing but the light from the sun itself. There isn’t anything moves faster than that, Daddy.
And as for the richest thing? Well, that would have to be the earth itself. And if the king doesn’t believe you, tell him I could come up there and prove it to him. Why, there isn’t a single thing the king owns that if we ask the questions: What’s that made of? Where did that come from? And what’s that made of? And where did that come from? Anything he owns, Daddy, if we ask those two questions and follow it back, we’ll get back to the earth itself. And if everything comes from the earth, the earth must be the richest thing in all the world.
As for the sweetest thing? Well, Daddy, he is a king, and kings have to make a lot of decisions. I’ll bet there are times when those decisions just weigh on his mind and trouble his sleep. Oh, even a king would have to agree there is nothing sweeter than a peaceful night’s rest when your mind is troubled. Go tell him that, Daddy. See what he has to say.”
The next morning the farmer went to see the king. He told the king those answers his daughter had given him. “My,” said the king, “those are real fine answers. I was pretty sure you were not going to come up with answers as fine as that. Tell me, did you have help figuring out your answers?”
The farmer admitted his daughter had helped him. “Ah ha!” crowed the king, “I may be able to have your land yet. I did not say you were allowed to have help!” Then the king thought a bit, and he had to admit, “Of course, I did not say you were not allowed to have help either. Here’s what we’ll do. Since that daughter of yours is the one who gave you the answers, you tell her it’s now going to be her job to save your land. You tell her I want her to show up here tomorrow morning, and I want her to be not riding and not walking either. You tell her I want her to be not dressed,” and when he saw the farmer’s face, he quickly added, “but don’t you worry, I don’t want your daughter to be going around naked either. And I want her to bring me a present that won’t be a present.” The king thought about what he had said, smiled, and then he sent the farmer on his way with, “Remember, tomorrow morning, not riding and not walking, not dressed and not naked, and bringing a present that won’t be a present. Let’s see what that smart girl of yours has to say about that!”
The farmer went home. Again he could hardly believe what was happening. He sat at his kitchen table, head in his hands, and that’s where his daughter found him. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Didn’t the king like the answers I gave you?”
“Oh, he liked them, but you won’t believe what he’s decided you have to do now.”
When the daughter heard the king’s commands, she smiled and said, “Oh Daddy, I have always wanted to meet the king, and this sounds like a perfect opportunity.”
The next morning the farmer’s daughter woke up early. She took a bird cage, went out to where she knew a quail’s nest was, caught a quail, and put it inside the cage. Then she took that cage and an old quilt out to the barn. In the barn she took off all her clothes and wrapped herself up in the old quilt. Then she picked up the bird cage and walked over to the goat. She threw one leg up over the goat’s back, and with her other foot hopping along on the ground, she started off for the king’s house.
The king woke up early too. He was real eager to learn what the farmer’s daughter would come up with. There he was standing in his doorway, looking off down his lane, when he saw the farmer’s daughter approaching. With one foot over the back of the goat, and her other foot hopping along on the ground, she wasn’t walking and she wasn’t exactly riding either. He could see her bare legs dangling out below the quilt, and he thought: “She’s not dressed, but wrapped up in that quilt, she can’t properly be called naked either. But I just know she can’t bring me a present that won’t be a present. I know I got her on that one.”
When the farmer’s daughter reached the king’s house, she stepped from the goat and said, “Good morning, King, I brought you a present.” She opened the bird cage, reached in, and pulled out the quail. As she handed the quail to the king, she opened her hand, saying, “Here’s your present.” And the quail fluttered off.
The king shook his head in amazement, smiling to himself, and then he said, “Young woman, you have saved your daddy’s land. But now, I have something else I’d like to talk with you about. You see, I have never married. Now, the reason I never married is because I always promised myself I was not going to marry unless I could marry a woman who was real smart. You have got to be the smartest young woman I have ever met. How would you like to marry me?”
She set the bird cage down and glared at the king, “Are you going to leave my daddy’s land alone?”
“Marry me, or don’t marry me, I will never touch your daddy’s land. You have already seen to that.”
“In that case, Your Majesty, if there is one thing I’ve always known about myself, it’s that I would be a fine queen. Sure, let’s get married.”
Wedding plans were made. All the friends and relatives were invited. A preacher was called up. But just before he said his I do, the king looked at her and said, “One more thing. I cannot tolerate a wife who goes butting into my business. You’ve got to promise me you won’t ever go butting into my business.”
She looked at him, smiled, then said, “We’ll have to see about that.”
He liked her smile so much, he went ahead and said his I do anyway.
Those two were lucky. They got married after knowing each other just a teeny-tiny bit of time, but she fell absolutely in love with him, and he fell absolutely in love with her. Most of the time they agreed on things. But no matter how much two people love each other, no two human beings are going to agree on everything 100 percent of the time. But when these two disagreed, they were able to talk and listen, listen and talk, talk and listen, listen and talk, until they could find that part of their disagreement that they could indeed agree upon. They were having a wonderful marriage.
But one day, as part of his work of being king, he made a decision that was so poor, she couldn’t help herself. She went right ahead and she butted into his business. When he found out, he yelled, “I told you. I told you on our wedding day I would not tolerate a wife who went butting into my business. That’s it. This marriage is over. Just go on back to your daddy’s house. Leave!”
She said, “All right, but before I go, could we have one last meal together? And could I look around and choose just one thing—something I could take with me to remember what it was like to have been queen and all?”
“Oh, one meal. One keepsake. That’s all you want. Fine.”
She went to their cooks (after all, they were a king and queen, so other people cooked their food for them). She asked the cooks to fix up all the king’s favorite foods for supper that night. And when he came to the supper table, there it was loaded with all sorts of real rich, real sweet foods—all of his favorites. When the king sat down to eat, she didn’t do a thing but pour him a glass of wine to drink. And every time he drank the least little bit, she refilled his glass. He’d drink, and she’d fill it. He’d drink, and she’d fill it. Drink. Fill it. Drink. Fill it. Drink fill it drink fill it drink fill it drink fill it. (You get the idea.) And pretty soon the combination of all that rich, sweet food and way more wine than anyone ought to drink at any one meal and the king was passed out right there at the table. Oh, his breathing was good. She knew he was going to be all right, but he wasn’t going to be waking up anytime soon.
She had the cooks help her pick him up. They carried the king outside and loaded him up in the wagon. She hitched the horses to the wagon, climbed up in the driver’s seat, flicked the reins of the horses, and drove on down to her daddy’s house. Once there, her daddy helped her carry the king inside. They dumped him in the bed that had been hers as a child. Then she climbed into bed next to her husband and slept till morning.
The next morning, the king woke up. His head hurt so much he could barely move it. When he looked over and saw his wife in bed beside him, he said, “What are you doing here? I am pretty sure I told you to go on back to your daddy’s house. Now why are you here?”
She smiled at him, then suggested, “Honey, maybe you ought to take a look around and see where you are.”
Carefully and slowly, the king looked around the room. “I’m not home. Where am I anyway?”
“Don’t you remember? You told me I could look around our place and choose one thing to take with me to remember what it was like to have been queen. Well, what I liked most about being queen was living with you, so I brought you on back to my daddy’s house with me.”
The king was absolutely tickled to think that with all the fancy things they owned in that great big house of theirs, the one thing his wife wanted most was him. So he said, “Honey, I am sorry I hollered and carried on like I did last night. I suppose if every once in a great long while you feel a pressing need to go butting into my business, I might be able to get used to it. Let’s go on back home.”
And going on back home is exactly what they did.
This folktale is told in a wide variety of different cultures. I had heard so many different versions of the story over the years that I was quite familiar with the basic plot before I ever encountered this variant. In 1991, I spent lots of time looking for Kentucky folktales so I could add a wide variety to my repertoire before Kentucky’s bicentennial in 1992. Yes, this was a marketing strategy on my part because I knew there would be increased interest in Kentucky stories that year, and I wanted to be ready with stories from different genres and for many different ages. I was thrilled to encounter a Kentucky-collected version of a tale I already knew I would enjoy telling.
My retelling is based on a version of this story collected in the early twentieth century by Marie Campbell from Doc Roark, a traveling doctor in the Letcher County area of southeastern Kentucky.1 In her notes on the story, Campbell writes, “The version given above as No. 10 is close to ‘The Innkeeper’s Clever Daughter,’ pp. 95–97, Ausubel’s A Treasury of Jewish Folklore.”2 Indeed, the story is culturally widespread. In D. L. Ashliman’s guide to folktales, he lists twenty-six versions of this tale, including ones from Chile, Italy, Greece, Norway, Russia, Israel, Germany, and West Virginia.3
In my retelling I have used my own words, but kept faithful to Campbell’s Kentucky-collected plot. I did deliberately make several changes.
Campbell’s version answers the second riddle with, “The richest thing in creation is the earth.”4 I elaborated on that by having the daughter explain that everything comes from the earth, so the earth is the richest thing of all.
At this point in the story, I will sometimes step out of the story by saying something like, “You know, she was right, too. Anything in this room would work the same way. Take that T-shirt you are wearing . . .” and I’ll find out what someone’s T-shirt is made of. It’s almost always cotton or cotton and polyester. Most audiences readily acknowledge that cotton comes from a plant that comes from the ground. When I tell them petroleum is used in the creation of polyester, they readily agree that petroleum comes from the earth too. I tend to use this digression in school settings.
I changed the bird she catches from a pigeon to a quail because it seemed to me a ground nester would be easier to catch. The daughter wraps herself up in a quilt, not a net, in my version because in the part of Kentucky where I grew up fish nets were not common, but everyone had quilts.
The idea of her marrying someone after knowing them such a short time disturbed me, but I believed such a marriage—if a good marriage—could work. So, I added my description of a good marriage.
Campbell writes, “She kept on pouring out wine for the king till she got him dead drunk.”5 My “Drink. Fill it. Drink. Fill it. Drink fill it drink fill it drink fill it drink fill it” repetition usually lights up the eyes of my listeners. It also provides a bit of comic relief that somehow softens this use of alcohol. (Several other variants of the story have her use a sleeping potion.)
In Campbell’s version, the king asks the farmer if his daughter can marry him, and the king tells his wife she may take one thing with her when he tells her to leave. Well, in retelling a folktale, the story gets filtered through the teller, so in my version the king addresses his marriage proposal directly to the daughter, not to her father. In addition, she is the one who asks for a final meal and the opportunity to take one thing with her.
I clearly see her as a very independent, smart, and clever woman, and yes, I admire her spunk. I also see the king as regretting sending her away the moment she does not protest but instead asks for just one meal and one keepsake, because they truly are enjoying a good marriage. However, his pride cannot allow him to back down.
In addition to just enjoying this story, I also like telling it because I am a farmer’s daughter. Trust me when I say the typical story featuring a farmer’s daughter sleeping with the traveling salesman was never a plot I found appealing. Insulting? Yes. A tale I wanted to bring to my audiences? Absolutely not!