ONCE upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters. They were all good girls; but
the youngest, named Balna, was more clever than the rest. The Raja's wife died when they were quite
little children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to take care of them.
The Raja's daughters took it by turns to cook their father's dinner every day, whilst he was absent
deliberating with his Ministers on the affairs of the nation.
About this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter; and every day, every
 day, when the seven Princesses were preparing their father's dinner, the Prudhan's widow and
daughter would come and beg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her
sisters, "Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at her own house. What does she
want with ours? If we allow her to come here, we shall suffer for it some day."
But the other sisters would answer, "Be quiet, Balna; why must you always be quarrelling with this
poor woman? Let her take some fire if she likes." Then the Prudhan's widow used to go to the hearth
and take a few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly throw some mud into
the midst of the dishes which were being prepared for the Raja's dinner.
Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother's death they had cooked his
dinner with their own hands, in order to avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So,
when he found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from their carelessness, as
it did not seem likely that any one should have put mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did
not like to reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated many successive
At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters cooking, and see how it all
 happened; so he went into the next room, and watched them through a hole in the wall.
There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and preparing the curry, and as each
dish was completed, they put it by the fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan's widow
come to the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her dinner with. Balna turned to
her, angrily, and said, "Why don't you keep fuel in your own house, and not come here every day and
take ours? Sisters, don't give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for herself."
Then the eldest sister answered, "Balna, let the poor woman take the wood and the fire; she does us
no harm." But Balna replied, "If you let her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and
make us sorry for it, some day."
The Raja then saw the Prudhan's widow go to the place where all his dinner was nicely prepared, and,
as she took the wood, she threw a little mud into each of the dishes.
At this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and brought before him. But when the
widow came, she told him that she had played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with
him; and she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words, that instead of
punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live
in the palace.
 Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get them, if possible, out of the
way, in order that her daughter might have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in
their place; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her, she did all she could
to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but bread to eat, and very little of that, and very
little water to drink; so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have
everything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all their lives long, were very
miserable and unhappy; and they used to go out every day and sit by their dead mother's tomb and
"Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we are, and how we are starved by
our cruel step-mother?"
One day, whilst they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a beautiful pomelo tree grew up
out of the grave, covered with fresh ripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by
eating some of the fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the bad dinner their
step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to their mother's grave and eat the pomeloes
which grew there on the beautiful tree.
Then the Ranee said to her daughter, "I cannot tell how it is, every day those seven girls say they
don't want any dinner, and won't eat any; and
 yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than you do. I cannot tell how it is." And
she bade her watch the seven Princesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.
So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother's grave, and were eating the beautiful
pomeloes, the Prudhan's daughter followed them, and saw them gathering the fruit.
Then Balna said to her sisters, "Do you not see that girl watching us? Let us drive her away, or
hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell her mother all about it, and that will be very bad for
But the other sisters said, "Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl would never be so cruel as to
tell her mother. Let us rather invite her to come and have some of the fruit." And calling her to
them, they gave her one of the pomeloes.
No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Prudhan's daughter went home and said to her mother,
"I do not wonder the seven Princesses will not eat the dinner you prepare for them, for by their
mother's grave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there every day and eat the
pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever tasted."
The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she stayed in her room, and told
the Raja that she had a very bad headache. The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife,
 "What can I do for you?" She answered, "There is only one thing that will make my headache well. By
your dead wife's tomb there grows a fine pomelo tree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root
and branch, and put a little of the water in which it has been boiled, on my forehead, and that will
cure my headache." So the Raja sent his servants, and had the beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the
roots, and did as the Ranee desired; and when some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was
put on her forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite well.
Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of their mother, the pomelo tree had
disappeared. Then they all began to cry very bitterly.
Now there was by the Ranee's tomb a small tank, and as they were crying they saw that the tank was
filled with a rich cream-like substance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing
this all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake, and liked it; and next day
the same thing happened, and so it went on for many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their
mother's grave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like cake. Then the cruel
step-mother said to her daughter: "I cannot tell how it is, I have had the pomelo tree which used to
grow by the Ranee's grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor look
 more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot tell how it is!"
And her daughter said, "I will watch."
Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should come by but their
step-mother's daughter. Balna saw her first, and said, "See, sisters, there comes that girl again.
Let us sit round the edge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some of our
cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very unfortunate for us."
The other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious, and instead of following her
advice, they gave the Prudhan's daughter some of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all
The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly angry, and sent her servants to
pull down the dead Ranee's tomb, and fill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this,
she next day pretended to be very, very ill—in fact, at the point of death—and when the
Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it was in his power to procure her any remedy, she said
to him: "Only one thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it." He replied, "Yes, whatever
it is, I will do it." She then said, "To save my life, you must kill the seven daughters of your
first wife, and put some of their blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their death
 will be my life." At these words the Raja was very sorrowful; but because he feared to break his
word, he went out with a heavy heart to find his daughters.
He found them crying by the ruins of their mother's grave.
Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them, and told them to come out into
the jungle with him; and there he made a fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the
afternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep, and when he saw they were fast
asleep, the Raja, their father, stole away and left them (for he feared his wife), saying to
himself: "It is better my poor daughters should die here, than be killed by their step-mother."
He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the forehead and hands of the
Ranee, and she thought then that he had really killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.
Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves all alone in the thick jungle
they were much frightened, and began to call out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their
father hear; but he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear them even had
their voices been as loud as thunder.
It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a neighbouring Raja chanced to be hunting
in that same jungle, and as they were
 returning home, after the day's sport was over, the youngest Prince said to his brothers "Stop, I
think I hear some one crying and calling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of
the sound, and find out what it is."
So the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the place where the seven Princesses
sat crying and wringing their hands. At the sight of them the young Princes were very much
astonished, and still more so on learning their story; and they settled that each should take one of
these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry her.
So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him, and married her.
And the second took the second;
And the third took the third;
And the fourth took the fourth;
And the fifth took the fifth;
And the sixth took the sixth;
And the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the beautiful Balna.
And when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing throughout the kingdom, at the
marriage of the seven young Princes to seven such beautiful Princesses.
About a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and aunts were so fond of the boy
that it was as if he had seven fathers and seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses
 had any children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was acknowledged their heir by all the
They had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the seventh Prince (Balna's
husband) said he would go out hunting, and away he went; and they waited long for him, but he never
Then his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of him; and they went away, but
they also did not return.
And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their kind husbands must have been
One day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her baby's cradle, and whilst her
sisters were working in the room below, there came to the palace door a man in a long black dress,
who said that he was a Fakir, and came to beg. The servants said to him, "You cannot go into the
palace—the Raja's sons have all gone away; we think they must be dead, and their widows cannot
be interrupted by your begging." But he said, "I am a holy man, you must let me in." Then the stupid
servants let him walk through the palace, but they did not know that this was no Fakir, but a wicked
Magician named Punchkin.
Punchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful things there, till at last he
reached the room where Balna sat singing
 beside her little boy's cradle. The Magician thought her more beautiful than all the other beautiful
things he had seen, insomuch that he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said,
"My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young; I will stay here and teach him
to grow up a clever man, and when he is grown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn
tidings of his father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you." At these words the
Magician was very angry, and turned her into a little black dog, and led her away; saying, "Since
you will not come with me of your own free will, I will make you." So the poor Princess was dragged
away, without any power of effecting an escape, or of letting her sisters know what had become of
her. As Punchkin passed through the palace gate the servants said to him, "Where did you get that
pretty little dog?" And he answered, "One of the Princesses gave it to me as a present." At hearing
which they let him go without further questioning.
Soon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their nephew, begin to cry, and
when they went upstairs they were much surprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be
seen. Then they questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the little black dog,
they guessed what had happened, and sent in every direction seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor
 the dog were to be found. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever seeing their
kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband, again, and devoted themselves thenceforward to
teaching and taking care of their little nephew.
Thus time went on, till Balna's son was fourteen years old. Then, one day, his aunts told him the
history of the family; and no sooner did he hear it, than he was seized with a great desire to go in
search of his father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to bring them home
again. His aunts, on learning his determination, were much alarmed and tried to dissuade him,
saying, "We have lost our husbands, and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole hope;
if you go away, what shall we do?" But he replied, "I pray you not to be discouraged; I will return
soon, and if it is possible bring my father and mother and uncles with me." So he set out on his
travels; but for some months he could learn nothing to help him in his search.
At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and become almost hopeless of ever
hearing anything further of his parents, he one day came to a country that seemed full of stones,
and rocks, and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower; hard by which was a Malee's
As he was looking about, the Malee's wife saw him, and ran out of the house and said, "My dear
 boy, who are you that dare venture to this dangerous place?" He answered, "I am a Raja's son, and I
come in search of my father, and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked enchanter bewitched."
Then the Malee's wife said, "This country and this palace belong to a great enchanter; he is all
powerful, and if any one displeases him, he can turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and
trees you see here were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what they now are. Some
time ago a Raja's son came here, and shortly afterwards came his six brothers, and they were all
turned into stones and trees; and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that tower
lives a beautiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisoner there for twelve years, because she
hates him and will not marry him."
Then the little Prince thought, "These must be my parents and my uncles. I have found what I seek at
last." So he told his story to the Malee's wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place
awhile and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she mentioned; and she promised to befriend
him, and advised his disguising himself lest the Magician should see him, and turn him likewise into
stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Malee's wife dressed him up in a saree, and pretended that
he was her daughter.
One day, not long after this, as the Magician was
 walking in his garden he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked her who she
was. She told him she was the Malee's daughter, and the Magician said, "You are a pretty little
girl, and to-morrow you shall take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in
The young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and went immediately to inform the Malee's
wife; after consultation with whom he determined that it would be more safe for him to retain his
disguise, and trust to the chance of a favourable opportunity for establishing some communication
with his mother, if it were indeed she.
Now it happened that at Balna's marriage her husband had given her a small gold ring on which her
name was engraved, and she had put it on her little son's finger when he was a baby, and afterwards
when he was older his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able to wear it. The
Malee's wife advised him to fasten the well-known treasure to one of the bouquets he presented to
his mother, and trust to her recognising it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as such a
strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her ever establishing communication with
her friends), that though the supposed Malee's daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day,
the Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time. At last one day, however,
opportunity favoured him, and when no one was
 looking, the boy tied the ring to a nosegay, and threw it at Balna's feet. It fell with a clang on
the floor, and Balna, looking to see what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the
flowers. On recognising it, she at once believed the story her son told her of his long search, and
begged him to advise her as to what she had better do; at the same time entreating him on no account
to endanger his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for twelve long years the Magician
had kept her shut up in the tower because she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded
that she saw no hope of release.
Now Balna's son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, "Do not fear, dear mother; the first thing to
do is to discover how far the Magician's power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my
father and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks and trees. You have spoken to him
angrily for twelve long years; now rather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of
again seeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing to marry him. Then
endeavour to find out what his power consists in, and whether he is immortal, or can be put to
Balna determined to take her son's advice; and the next day sent for Punchkin, and spoke to him as
had been suggested.
The Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to
 allow the wedding to take place as soon as possible.
But she told him that before she married him he must allow her a little more time, in which she
might make his acquaintance, and that, after being enemies so long, their friendship could but
strengthen by degrees. "And do tell me," she said, "are you quite immortal? Can death never touch
you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?"
"Why do you ask?" said he.
"Because," she replied, "if I am to be your wife, I would fain know all about you, in order, if any
calamity threatens you, to overcome, or if possible to avert it."
"It is true," he added, "that I am not as others. Far, far away, hundreds of thousands of miles from
this, there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a
circle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six chattees full of water, piled one
above another: below the sixth chattee is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the
life of the parrot depends my life; and if the parrot is killed I must die. It is, however," he
added, "impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility
of the country, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround the palm trees, and
kill all who approach the place."
Balna told her son what Punchkin had said,
 but at the same time implored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.
The Prince, however, replied, "Mother, unless I can get hold of that parrot, you, and my father, and
uncles, cannot be liberated: be not afraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the
Magician in good humour—still putting off your marriage with him on various pretexts; and
before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here." So saying, he went away.
Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick jungle; and, being very tired,
sat down under a tree and fell asleep. He was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about
him, saw a large serpent which was making its way to an eagle's nest built in the tree under which
he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The Prince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew
his sword, and killed the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in the air, and the
two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for their young ones, returned. They quickly saw
the dead serpent and the young Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him, "Dear
boy, for many years all our young ones have been devoured by that cruel serpent; you have now saved
the lives of our children; whenever you are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you; and
as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants."
 At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their wings, on which he mounted; and
they carried him far, far away over the thick jungles, until he came to the place where grew the
circle of palm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of water. It was the middle
of the day, and the heat was very great. All round the trees were the genii fast asleep;
nevertheless, there were such countless thousands of them, that it would have been quite impossible
for any one to walk through their ranks to the place; down swooped the strong-winged
eaglets—down jumped the Prince; in an instant he had overthrown the six chattees full of
water, and seized the little green parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as he mounted
again into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding their treasure gone, set up a wild and
Away, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the great tree; then the Prince
said to the old eagles, "Take back your little ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I
stand in need of help, I will not fail to come to you." He then continued his journey on foot till
he arrived once more at the Magician's palace, where he sat down at the door and began playing with
the parrot. Punchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, "My boy, where did you get that
parrot? Give it to me, I pray you."
PUNCHKIN'S PRISONERS ARE SET FREE
But the Prince answered, "Oh no, I cannot
 give away my parrot, it is a great pet of mine; I have had it many years."
Then the Magician said, "If it is an old favourite, I can understand your not caring to give it
away; but come what will you sell it for?"
"Sir," replied the Prince, "I will not sell my parrot."
Then Punchkin got frightened, and said, "Anything, anything; name what price you will, and it shall
be yours." The Prince answered, "Let the seven Raja's sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be
"It is done as you desire," said the Magician, "only give me my parrot." And with that, by a stroke
of his wand, Balna's husband and his brothers resumed their natural shapes. "Now, give me my
parrot," repeated Punchkin.
"Not so fast, my master," rejoined the Prince; "I must first beg that you will restore to life all
whom you have thus imprisoned."
The Magician immediately waved his wand again; and, whilst he cried, in an imploring voice, "Give me
my parrot!" the whole garden became suddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been
before, stood Rajas, and Punts, and Sirdars, and mighty men on prancing horses, and jewelled pages,
and troops of armed attendants.
"Give me my parrot!" cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the parrot, and tore off one
 of its wings; and as he did so the Magician's right arm fell off.
Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, "Give me my parrot!" The Prince pulled off the
parrot's second wing, and the Magician's left arm tumbled off.
"Give me my parrot!" cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince pulled off the parrot's right leg,
the Magician's right leg fell off: the Prince pulled off the parrot's left leg, down fell the
Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still he rolled his eyes, and
cried, "Give me my parrot!" "Take your parrot, then," cried the boy, and with that he wrung the
bird's neck, and threw it at the Magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted round, and,
with a fearful groan, he died!
Then they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven Princes went to their own
country, and lived very happily ever afterwards. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to
his own house.
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