[Note: first published in the edition of 1812. Told by Dortchen Wild in Cassel on Friday, 9 October, 1812. About the Grimm Collection.]
Once there was a king who had a wife with golden hair, and she was so beautiful that the like of her was not to be found on earth. By chance she fell ill, and when she felt that she was nigh unto death, she called the king and said, “If after my death you wish to remarry, take no one who’s not just as beautiful as I and who hasn’t golden hair like mine. That you must promise me.” When the king had given his word, she closed her eyes and died.
For a long time the king was inconsolable and had no thought of taking a second wife. Finally his councilors said, “There’s no other way out, the king must remarry so that we may have a queen.” Messengers were sent about far and wide to look for a bride who in beauty might be quite the late queen’s equal, but such a one was not to be found in the whole world, and even if she had been found, there was no one with such golden hair. So the messengers returned with nothing accomplished.
Now the king had a daughter who was just as beautiful as her deceased mother and also had the same golden hair. Once when she was grown up, the king looked at her and noticed that in every respect she was like his late wife and suddenly fell violently in love with her. Then he said to his councilors, “I wish to marry my daughter, for she is the image of my deceased wife; if I don’t marry her, I shan’t be able to find a bride who resembles my wife.” On hearing this the councilors were aghast and said, “God has forbidden a father to marry his daughter. No good can come from sin, and the realm will be brought to perdition.” The daughter was even more frightened when she learned of her father’s resolve, but hoped still to dissuade him from his plan. “Before complying with your wish,” she said to him, “I must first have three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as glittering as the stars. I further demand a cloak made up of a thousand kinds of pelts and furs, and every animal in your realm must contribute a piece of its skin to it.” She thought, however, “It’s quite impossible to procure that and thus I shall divert my father from his evil thoughts.”
But the king persisted in his plan, and the most skillful maidens in his kingdom had to weave the three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as glittering as the stars. His huntsmen had to catch all animals in his realm and remove a piece of their pelts; from that was made a cloak of a thousand kinds of fur. Finally, when everything was ready, the king had the cloak fetched, spread it out before her, and said, “The wedding will be tomorrow.”
When the king’s daughter saw that there was no longer any hope of changing her father’s mind, she decided to run away. In the night when everybody was asleep, she got up and from among her jewels took three things, a gold ring, a tiny gold spinning wheel, and a tiny gold reel. The three dresses of the sun, the moon, and the stars she put into a nutshell, donned the cloak of all kinds of fur, and blackened her hands and face with soot. Then she commended herself to God and went off, walking the whole night until she came to a big forest. Since she was tired, she sat down in a hollow tree and fell asleep.
The sun rose, but she slept on and kept on sleeping when it was already broad daylight. By chance the king to whom the forest belonged was hunting in it, and when his dogs came to the tree, they snuffed, ran around and round it, and barked. “Go see what kind of game has hidden itself there,” said the king to the huntsmen. The latter obeyed the order and on their return said, “A queer animal is lying in the hollow tree, the like of which we have never seen before: on its skin are a thousand kinds of fur, and it’s lying asleep there.” “See if you can take it alive,” said the king, “then tie it in the cart and bring it along.” When the huntsmen took hold of the girl, she woke up very frightened and cried out to them, “I’m a poor child, forsaken by father and mother. Have pity on me and take me with you.” Then they said, “All-Kinds-of-Fur, you’re fit for the kitchen. Just come with us; you can sweep up the ashes there.” So they put her in the cart and drove home to the royal palace. They assigned her a cubbyhole under the stairs where no light of day penetrated and said, “You can live and sleep there, furry creature.” Then she was sent to the kitchen where she carried wood and water, poked the fire, plucked the poultry, sorted the vegetables, swept up the ashes, and did all the dirty work.
For a long time All-Kinds-of-Fur lived there quite wretchedly. Alas, fair king’s daughter, what you still have to go through! It once happened, however, that a party was being celebrated in the palace; then she said to the chef, “May I go upstairs for a little while and look on? I’ll stand outside the door.” “All right, go along,” answered the chef, “but you must be back here in half an hour and collect the ashes.” She took her oil lamp, went to her cubbyhole, took off the fur cloak, and washed the soot from her hands and face, so that her full beauty came to light again. Then she opened the nut and took out the dress that shone like the sun and, when that was done, went upstairs to the party. Everybody made way for her, for no one knew her and they didn’t doubt but that she was a king’s daughter. Then the king came to meet her, offered her his hand, and danced with her, thinking to himself, “I’ve never laid eyes on a girl so beautiful as she.”
When the dance was over, she curtsied and, as the king was looking around, disappeared, and no one knew where. The sentries stationed outside the palace were summoned and questioned, but no one had seen her.
She had, however, run into her cubbyhole, quickly taken off her dress, blackened her hands and face, put on the fur cloak, and once again was All-Kinds-of-Fur. When she went into the kitchen and was about to start work and sweep up the ashes, the chef said, “Don’t bother till tomorrow; instead, cook the king’s pudding. I, too, want to look on a little upstairs. But don’t you let a single hair fall in; if you do, you’ll get nothing more to eat in the future.” The chef went off, and All-Kinds-of-Fur cooked the pudding for the king, a bread pudding, as best she could. When it was ready, she fetched her gold ring from the cubbyhole and put it in the bowl in which the pudding was served.
When the ball was over, the king had the pudding brought and ate it, and it tasted so good to him that he thought he’d never eaten a better. When he reached the bottom, he saw a gold ring lying there and couldn’t imagine how it got there. He had the chef summoned. On hearing the order the chef was frightened and said to All-Kinds-of-Fur, “You surely let a hair drop into the pudding; if so, you’ll get a beating.” When he entered the king’s presence, the latter asked who’d cooked the pudding. “I did,” answered the chef. ‘That’s not true,” said the king, “for it was a different kind and much better cooked than usual.” “I must confess,” answered the chef, “that I didn’t cook it; the furry creature did.” “Go and have her come up,” said the king.
When All-Kinds-of-Fur came, the king asked, “Who are you?” “I’m a poor child who no longer has either a father or a mother.” “Why are you in my palace?” “I’m good for nothing except to have the boots thrown at my head,” she answered. He asked further, “Where did you get the ring that was in the pudding?” “I don’t know anything about the ring,” she answered. So the king could find out nothing and had to send her away again.
Some time later there was another party. As before, All-Kinds-of-Fur begged the chef for leave to look on. “Yes,” he answered, “but be sure to come back in half an hour and cook the king the bread pudding he’s so fond of.” She ran to her cubbyhole, hurriedly washed herself, took out of the nut the dress which was as silvery as the moon, and put it on. Then, looking like a king’s daughter, she went upstairs, and the king came to meet her and was glad to see her again, and since the dance was just beginning, they danced together. When the dance was over, she again disappeared so quickly that the king couldn’t see where she’d gone. She jumped into her cubbyhole, turned herself into the furry creature again, and went into the kitchen to cook the bread pudding. When the chef was upstairs, she fetched the gold spinning-wheel and put it in the bowl so that the pudding was served on top of it. It was taken to the king, who ate it and liked it as much as the time before and summoned the chef. The latter again had to admit that it was All-Kinds-of-Fur who’d cooked the pudding. Again All-Kinds-of-Fur was brought before the king, but she answered that she was good only to have the boots thrown at her head and that she knew nothing at all about the tiny gold spinning-wheel.
When for the third time the king arranged a party, it went the same as before. To be sure the chef said, “You’re a witch, furry creature, and always put something into the pudding to make it so good that the king likes it better than what I cook,” but since she begged so hard, he allowed her to go there for the allotted time. Now she put on a dress which was as glittering as the stars and thus clad went into the hall. Again the king danced with the beautiful maiden and thought she’d never before been so beautiful. While he was dancing and without her noticing it, he put a gold ring on her finger and gave orders that the dance should last quite long. When it was at an end, he wanted to hold her hands tight, but she tore herself away and slipped so quickly among the crowd that she disappeared before his eyes. She ran as fast as she could to her cubbyhole under the stairs, but because she’d stayed out too long, indeed more than half an hour, she hadn’t time to take off the beautiful dress but merely threw her fur cloak over it. Neither did she in her haste quite cover herself with soot, but one of her fingers remained white. All-Kinds-of-Fur now hurried into the kitchen, cooked the bread pudding for the king and, when the chef was gone, put the gold reel in it.
When the king found the reel at the bottom of the bowl, he summoned All-Kinds-of-Fur. Then, noticing her white finger and seeing the ring he had put on her during the dance, he seized her by the hand and held her tight, and when she wanted to tear herself away and run off, her fur cloak opened a little and the starry dress gleamed forth. The king seized the cloak and tore it off. Then her golden hair appeared, and she stood there in full splendor and could no longer conceal herself. When she’d wiped the soot and ashes from her face, she was more beautiful than anybody had ever before seen on earth. “You are my dear bride,” said the king, “and we shall never part.” Then the wedding was celebrated and they lived happily until their death.
