Prince Tertius shook his head. “I had hoped the emperor was only joking, but he must have really meant what he said on the parchment. Are there many of those statues?”

  “There are about a dozen on each side of the garden path along which the princess walks each morning, Your Highness. She never looks at them, for she is as hard-hearted as she is beautiful.”

  “Pooh,” said Prince Primus. “It doesn’t matter that she is hard-hearted, as long as she is rich. And beautiful, too, of course. I shall soften her heart … Now be off with you at once, serving maid.”

  The serving maid curtsied deeply and left the room, taking backward steps, for it would have been very impolite for her to turn her back on three princes.

  That night there was a great feast, and the three princes were the guests of honor.

  The emperor, seated on a splendid throne at the head of the table, greeted them. Next to him was the princess Meliversa, and she was indeed as beautiful as the sun. Her hair was long and the color of corn silk. Her eyes were blue and reminded everyone of the sky on a bright spring day. Her features were perfectly regular and her skin was flawless.

  But her eyes were empty, and her face was expressionless.

  She did not smile when Prince Primus was introduced to her. She looked at him proudly and said, “What kingdom are you from?”

  He said, “I am from Micrometrica, Your Imperial Highness.”

  The princess said, with contempt, “I know all the kingdoms of Earth, and Micrometrica is the smallest of them.” And she looked away from him.

  Prince Primus backed away from her and took his seat at the table. He whispered to Prince Tertius, “She will grow interested once I show her what I can do.”

  Prince Secundus was introduced to her, and she said, “You are also from Micrometrica, I imagine.”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Highness. Prince Primus is my brother.”

  “Micrometrica is also the poorest kingdom on Earth. If you and your brother must share its wealth, you must be poor indeed.” And she looked away from him.

  Prince Secundus backed away from her and took his seat at the table. He whispered to Prince Tertius, “She will forget our poverty when I show her what I can do.”

  Prince Tertius was introduced to her, and she said, “Still another from Micrometrica?”

  “We are triplets, Your Imperial Highness,” said Prince Tertius, “though not identical ones. And what we have, we share.”

  “But you have nothing to share.”

  “We have no money and no power,” said Prince Tertius, “but we and our kingdom are happy. And when happiness is shared, it increases.”

  “I have never noticed that,” said the princess, and she looked away from him.

  Prince Tertius backed away from her and took his seat at the table. He whispered to his brothers, “She is rich, and our country needs money. But her beauty is ice-cold and her wealth does not bring her happiness.”

  The next morning, Prince Primus made ready to put on a demonstration of his abilities for the princess. He had dressed in a fine pair of athletic shorts supplied by the emperor, and he made his magnificent muscles ripple as he stood before the mirror. He was quite satisfied with his appearance.

  At that moment, however, there was a timid knock on the door, and when Prince Primus called, “Enter,” the second assistant serving maid came in with a bowl of apples.

  “What is this?” demanded Prince Primus.

  The serving maid said, “I thought you might wish some refreshment before undertaking your task, Your Highness.”

  “Nonsense,” said Prince Primus. “I have all the refreshment I need. Take away those silly apples.”

  “I also wonder, Your Highness,” said the serving maid, blushing at her own daring in continuing to speak to him, “if you ought to undertake the task.”

  “Why not?” said Prince Primus, flexing his arms and smiling at himself in the mirror. “Do you think I am not manly enough?”

  The serving maid said, “You are certainly manly enough for anyone in the world but the princess. She is so hard to please, and it would be a shame that such a fine prince as Your Highness should be made into a marble statue.”

  Prince Primus laughed, scornfully. “She cannot be so hard to please that I do not please her—and that is enough talk. You must only speak when spoken to, serving maid. Get out at once.”

  And the serving maid got out at once, though she curtsied first.

  Prince Primus stepped out into the large arena. Before him were the stands, covered by a beautiful silk canopy. The emperor was seated in the center, and at his right was the imperial princess Meliversa. The officials of the court were in the stands, too, as were many a young gentleman and young lady. In one corner were Prince Secundus and Prince Tertius.

  Prince Primus faced the stands, and around him was all the equipment he needed.

  He turned, to begin with, to a large stack of barbells. The lighter ones he tossed aside lightly, even though an ordinary man might have had trouble lifting them.

  Then he lifted the heavier ones, seizing them with both hands and bringing them up to his shoulders with a jerk, and then, more slowly, lifting them high in the air.

  All the courtiers broke into applause when he managed to lift the heaviest weight that had been supplied. No other person had ever been known to lift that weight.

  Finally, he bent an iron bar by placing it behind his neck and pulling the ends forward till they met in front of him. He then pulled the ends apart again, lifted the bar over his head, and threw it to one side.

  Whatever he did brought round after round of applause from the courtiers. Even the emperor nodded approvingly. The princess, however, did not applaud; nor did she nod.

  The emperor bent toward his daughter and said, “Really, my dear, this prince is quite the strongest man I have ever seen. It would be a pretty good thing to make him heir to the throne.”

  The princess said coldly, “It would be a pretty good thing to make him a strong man at the circus, My Imperial Father, but he is quite unsuitable for marriage to me. After all, do I have a set of weights in my chamber, or iron bars that need bending? I would quickly grow weary of watching him flex his arms, and if he tried to embrace me, he would break my ribs.”

  She rose in her seat, and at once everyone was quiet.

  “Prince Primus,” she said, in her beautiful voice.

  Prince Primus folded his arms and listened confidently.

  The princess said, “You are the strongest man I have ever seen, and I thank you for your efforts to please me. However, I do not wish you for my husband. You know the penalty.”

  She made a mystic pass with her hands (for she was a very well educated princess indeed), and there was a bright flash of light. The courtiers had covered their eyes, for they knew what to expect; but Prince Secundus and Prince Tertius were not prepared, and they were blinded for a moment by the flash.

  When they recovered, they saw a statue being loaded into a cart so that it might be transported to the avenue in the garden along which the princess took her morning walk.

  The statue was that of Prince Primus, arms folded, expression handsome and proud.

  Prince Tertius was sad that evening. He had never lost a brother before, and he found he didn’t like it.

  He said to Prince Secundus, “I don’t think Our Royal Father is going to like it either. And as for Our Royal Mother, she’s going to hate it. How are we going to tell them?”

  Prince Secundus said, “After I win the princess’s hand, I may perhaps be able to persuade her to try to find a way to restore Our Royal Brother. After all, someone as well-educated as she ought to be able to think of a way of doing so.”

  “But how will you be able to win her hand? She seems to have a heart of stone. Cold stone.”

  “Not at all,” said Prince Secundus. “It’s just that she wasn’t interested in useless strength and muscles. What good is it to lift weights? Now I am a warrior. I can fight and handle weapons. That is a useful occupation.”

  “I hope so,” said Prince Tertius, “but you will be taking a great chance. Still, the princess is rich, and we do need the money.”

  The next morning, Prince Secundus was arraying himself in gleaming armor when the second assistant serving maid staggered in, carrying an enormous sword for him. She was bowed down by its weight, and when she tried to curtsy, she dropped it with a loud clang.

  Prince Secundus said, with annoyance, “You are very clumsy.”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” she said humbly, curtsying again, “but are you really going to undertake the task for the princess?”

  “Certainly I am, but what business is that of yours, serving maid?”

  “None at all, Your Highness,” admitted the serving maid, “but the princess is so hard-hearted and so difficult to please. I do not want to see you turned into a statue, like your brother.”

  “I will not be turned into a statue,” said Prince Secundus, “because the princess will be fascinated with me. And now, serving maid, leave my presence at once. I cannot bear anyone as impertinent as you are.”

  The serving maid curtsied and left.

  Prince Secundus stepped out into the arena, and at once there was applause from all the courtiers. The armor that had been given him by the emperor was beautiful and shiny, and fit him very well. His shield was pure white, his sword was of the best steel, his spear was perfectly balanced, and his helmet covered his face and gave him a ferocious appearance.

  He threw his spear, and it flew the length of the arena and impaled itself in the center of a target.

  Prince Secundus then challenged anyone at all to a swordfight. A large man in armor came into the arena, and for long minutes the two fought, sword clashing on shield. But Prince Secundus could strike twice for every once that his opponent could, and as the other tired, Prince Secundus seemed to grow stronger. Soon enough, the opponent raised his hands in surrender, and Prince Secundus was the victor. The applause was deafening.

  Finally, Prince Secundus removed his helmet and armor and mounted a horse. With one hand only, he controlled the horse perfectly, making it rear on its hind legs, leap, and dance. It was a remarkable performance, and the audience went wild.

  “Really, my dear,” said the emperor, as he bent toward his daughter, “this prince is an excellent warrior. He could lead my armies into battle and defeat all my enemies. Surely he must please you.”

  The princess’s haughty face was cold, and she said, “He might make an excellent general if he also knew how to handle an army, but of what use would he be as a husband? There are no armed men in my chamber for him to fight, no horses for him to ride, no targets for him to shoot at. And if he forgot himself, he might throw his spear at me, since weapons are his greatest love and talent.”

  She rose in her seat, and at once everyone was quiet. She said, “Prince Secundus, you are the greatest warrior I have ever seen, and I thank you for your efforts to please me. However, I do not wish you for my husband. You know the penalty.”

  She made the same mystic pass as before. This time Prince Tertius knew enough to cover his eyes. When he took his hand away, there was another statue: that of a graceful, handsome prince with one hand raised as though it had just hurled a spear. Prince Tertius knew that he had lost a second brother.

  Prince Tertius sat alone in the suite the next morning. He hadn’t slept all night, and to tell the truth, he didn’t know what to do.

  He said to himself, “If I go home now, everyone will say I am a coward. Besides, how can I go home now and break the news to Dad? And dear Mom will weep for the rest of her life. As for me, I have lost two brothers who were good brothers to me, even if they were a little conceited and headstrong.”

  And now the second assistant serving maid edged her way into the room. She had nothing in her hands.

  Prince Tertius said, “Are you bringing me something, my dear?”

  She curtsied very nervously and said, “No, Your Highness. Do not be angry with me, for I have only come to tell you that I asked both your brothers not to attempt the task, but they would not listen.”

  Prince Tertius sighed. “They were both very willful, I know. You mustn’t blame yourself that they did not listen to you. And certainly I am not angry with you.”

  “Then, Your Highness, would you listen to me if I ask you not to attempt the task? You are not a great strongman or a great warrior. How can you win the cold, hard princess if your brothers could not?”

  Prince Tertius said, “I know that all I can do is write a little poetry and sing a bit, but perhaps the princess might like that.”

  “She is very hard to please, Your Highness,” said the serving maid, shuddering at her impudence in arguing with a prince. “If you are made into a statue too, your parents will be left entirely without children, and they will have no heir to the throne.”

  Prince Tertius sighed again. “You are perfectly correct, little serving maid. You have a kind heart and a thoughtful mind. But you see, our kingdom is so poor that Dad has to help in the garden and Mom has to help in the kitchen. If I could marry the princess, I would become so rich that I could make Mom and Dad and the whole kingdom happy … So I think I must try to please the princess. Perhaps if I use my very best poems and sing them as sweetly as I can, she will be pleased.”

  Tears rolled down the serving maid’s cheeks. “Oh, how I wish she would, but she is so hard-hearted. If only she had my heart inside her, it would be different.”

  “Well then, my dear,” said Prince Tertius, “let me test your heart. I will sing you some of my songs, and you can tell me if you like them. If you do, perhaps the princess will like them too.”

  The serving maid was horrified, “Oh, Your Highness. You mustn’t do that. Your songs are made to be sung to a princess, not to a simple serving maid. How can you judge a princess by a serving maid?”

  “In that case,” said Prince Tertius, “let us forget the princess, and I will ask only what the serving maid thinks.”

  Prince Tertius tuned his lyre, one that was his own and that he had brought with him. Then, in a very soft and melodious voice, he sang a sad song of love denied. And when the serving maid seemed to melt away in tears at the sadness, he sang a happy song of love attained, so that the tears vanished and she clapped her hands and laughed.

  “Did you like them?” said Prince Tertius.

  “Oh, yes,” said the serving maid. “The songs were beautiful, and your voice made me feel as though I were in heaven.”

  Prince Tertius smiled. “Thank you, my lady.” He bent and kissed her hand, and the serving maid turned red with confusion and quickly put the hand he had kissed behind her back.

  But just then there was a loud knock on the door, and there entered a chamberlain, a high court official, who bowed to Prince Tertius (but not very deeply) and said, “Your Highness, the imperial princess Meliversa wishes to know why you have not appeared in the arena.”

  He looked hard at the second assistant serving maid as he said this, and the terrified young woman left the room hurriedly.

  Prince Tertius said, “I do not know whether I will undertake the task. I am considering it.”

  The chamberlain bowed even less deeply than before and said, “I will inform the princess of what you have said. Please remain in this room until she decides what is to be done.”

  Prince Tertius waited in the room and wondered if the princess would turn him into a statue at once for hesitating over the task.

  He was still wondering about it when the princess Meliversa entered the room. She did not knock. Imperial princesses never knock.

  She said, “My chamberlain tells me that you might not undertake the task.”

  Prince Tertius said, “Your Imperial Highness may not like my poetry or my voice. It is all I have to offer.”

  “But if I do like them, what then?”

  “In that case, I wonder if I wish to have as my wife someone who is so cold and hard-hearted, she is willing to turn brave, good princes into statues.”

  “Am I not beautiful, Prince?”

  “It is an outside beauty, Imperial Princess.”

  “Am I not rich, Prince?”

  “Only in money, Imperial Princess.”

  “Are you not poor, Prince?”

  “Only in money, Imperial Princess, and I am used to it, actually, as are my parents and my kingdom.”

  “Do you not wish to be rich, Prince, by marrying me?”

  “I think not, Imperial Princess. I am, after all, not for sale.”

  “And yet my chamberlain, on the other side of your door, heard you singing to a low-born serving maid.”

  “That is true, but the serving maid was tender-hearted and loving, and I wanted to sing to her. A tender and loving heart is, after all, the beauty and wealth I really want. If she will have me, then I will marry her, and someday, when I am king in my father’s place, the low-born serving maid will be my queen.”

  At that, the princess smiled. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “Now,” she said, “you will see the use of a good education.”

  She made a motion with her hand, muttered two or three words, and with that she grew foggy in appearance, shrunk a little, changed a little—and Prince Tertius found himself looking at the second assistant serving maid.

  He said, in amazement, “Which are you, the imperial princess or the serving maid?”

  She said, “I am both, Prince Tertius. It was in the form of a serving maid that I set myself the task of finding a suitable husband. Of what use was it to me what princes might do to win the hand of a beautiful and rich princess, not caring that she was cold and cruel. What I wanted was someone who would be kind and loving to a gentle, tenderhearted girl, even if she was not as beautiful as the sun or richer than gold. You have passed that test.”

  Again she changed and was the princess again, but a smiling, warm princess.

  “Will you have me as wife now, Prince Tertius?”