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Once upon a time, there lived a certain man and his wife who had
two cornfields, three cows, two oxen, five sheep and thirteen children.
Twelve of the children were called by names common in the country, but
the thirteenth child got a strange name of Merrymind. The thirteen children
grew taller and stronger every year, and they did hard work earning
their living. But when the youngest was old enough to look after his
father’s sheep, there happened the great fair to which everybody in the
neighbourhood went. As the fair happened only once in seven years, the
man and his family couldn’t miss it. The father opened the bag in which
he kept his money and gave every one of the thirteen a silver penny.
The boys and girls had never before owned so much pocket money
and, thinking of what they should buy, they dressed themselves in their
holiday clothes and set out with their father and mother to the fair.
Before evening the twelve of the children had spent their money on
clothes and all sorts of beautiful things, but Merrymind hadn’t bought
anything. The reason was that he had set his heart upon a fiddle. Unfortunately
fiddles cost a lot more than a silver penny.
The sun was getting low and red upon the hill, and Merrymind was
still looking about. Suddenly he saw a little grey-haired man with just
one old dirty fiddle the strings of which were broken.
“Buy the fiddle, my young master,” he said as Merrymind came up
to him. “You’ll have it cheap: I ask but a silver penny for it. Mend the
strings and you’ll have the best fiddle in the country.”
Merrymind thought this a great bargain. He was a handy boy and
could mend the strings while watching his father’s sheep.
Everybody laughed at Merrymind’s bargain except his mother who was
a very kindly woman. The boy began repairing the strings — he spent all
his time, both night and day upon them, but no string would hold on his
fiddle. At last Merrymind decided to leave home where everyone except
his mother laughed at him and go to seek his fortune. So he set out on
a summer morning with the broken-stringed fiddle under his arm.
Merrymind walked through the woods and found himself in the mountains.
He was so tired of his journey that he fell asleep in a deserted
cottage in the valley. He woke up in the middle of the night and saw that the valley was full of inhabitants, and they were all busy in houses,
in fields and in mills. They were wearing fine clothes and looked rich
but very unhappy. Even the birds of that valley did not sing — they
were too busy building their nests. The cats did not lie by the fire —
they were all on the watch for mice. The dogs went out after hares and
the cows and sheep grazed without stopping.
In the middle of the valley there stood a beautiful castle. The gates
stood open, and Merrymind walked in. The courtyard was full of people
who were so busy working that they didn’t even look up at the boy. In the
highest tower of that busy castle, at a window from which she could see
the whole valley, there sat a noble lady. Her dress was rich, her hair was
iron-grey, her look was sour and gloomy. She and her twelve maidens were
spinning as hard as they could, but all the yarn they made was black.
No one in or out of the castle would greet Merrymind or answer his
questions. They said, “We have no time to talk!” The only person who
talked to him was a soldier. He told the boy the story of the valley.
“This valley belongs to the lady of the castle, whose name is Dame
Dreary. She had another name in her youth — they called her Lady
Littlecare; and then the valley was the happiest and the most beautiful
place in the whole country. There were May games, harvest festivals
and Christmas parties among them.
Shepherds piped on the hillsides, people sang in the fields, and laughter
was heard