In the old days, when wishing still did some good, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so lovely that the sun itself, which has seen so much, marvelled whenever it shone upon her face.
Near the king’s castle lay a great dark forest, and in the forest, under an old lime tree, was a well. On hot days the youngest princess would go and sit by the well, and to pass the time she would throw up a golden ball and catch it again, and this ball was her favourite plaything in all the world.
Now one day the golden ball, instead of falling into her hand, slipped past her fingers and rolled away and fell into the well, which was so deep she could not see the bottom. And the princess began to cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted.
Then a voice said, “What ails you, princess? You weep so that a stone would take pity on you.” She looked, and saw a frog stretching his thick ugly head out of the water. “I am weeping for my golden ball,” she said, “which has fallen into the well.” “Be quiet, and do not weep,” said the frog. “I can fetch it. But what will you give me if I bring it back?” “Whatever you like, dear frog,” she said. “My pearls, my jewels, even the golden crown I wear.” “I care nothing for your pearls and jewels and crowns,” said the frog. “But if you will love me, and let me be your companion, and sit at your table and eat from your golden plate and sleep upon your little bed, then I will dive down and bring you your ball.” “Oh yes,” said the princess, “I promise you all of it,” but she thought, “What nonsense the silly frog talks. He lives in the water with the other frogs, and croaks, and can be no companion to anyone.”
The frog, when he had her promise, dived down, and came up with the ball in his mouth, and threw it onto the grass. The princess snatched it up, overjoyed, and ran off with it, and would not listen when the frog called after her, “Wait! Take me with you as you promised!” But she was already gone, and soon forgot all about him.
The next day, as the princess sat at dinner with the king and all the court, there came a sound on the marble stair, splish, splash, splish, splash, and then a knocking at the door, and a voice: “Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me.” She ran to see who it was, and when she saw the frog she shut the door in a fright and hurried back to the table. The king saw that she was frightened, and asked what was the matter, and she told him of the frog, and of her promise by the well.
“That which you have promised,” said the king gravely, “you must keep. Go and let him in.” So she opened the door, and the frog hopped in, and followed her to her chair. “Lift me up beside you,” he said. She would not, until the king commanded it. And the frog ate from her golden plate, though she had little appetite herself. And when he had finished, he said, “Now I am tired. Carry me up to your room, and let me sleep in your little bed.”
The princess began to cry, for she could not bear the thought of the cold clammy frog in her pretty bed. But the king grew stern. “He helped you when you were in trouble,” he said, “and you must not despise him now.” So she carried the frog upstairs, but set him down sulkily in a corner. And when she was in bed, he came creeping over and said, “I am tired, and I wish to sleep as well as you. Lift me up, or I shall tell your father.” At this the princess was very angry, and she snatched him up and threw him against the wall with all her might. “Now you will be quiet, you horrid frog!” she cried.
But when he fell to the ground, he was no longer a frog, but a prince with kind and beautiful eyes. And he told her that a wicked witch had bewitched him, and that no one in the world could have freed him but she; and that he had only ever wished to be treated with the kindness he had earned. And in time, when she had come to know him, the princess loved him truly, not for his handsome face but for his patience and his gentleness; and with her father’s blessing they were wed, and lived long and happily together.
A promise is a promise, however small the one you make it to; and kindness owed is a debt that comes due, whether or not we like the look of the one we owe it to.