THERE was once a king who was very fond of stories. He lived a long time ago before there were any story-books.
So this king had people tell him stories. He could never hear enough. He would listen to his story-tellers from morning until night.
The king was always sorry when a story came to an end. Another must be begun at once. But sometimes no one was ready with a new story. Then the king became very angry.
At last he said: "Whoever will tell me a story that has no ending shall marry my daughter. And he shall be king after me. But whoever starts a story and ends it, him will I throw into prison. And there he shall stay."
Now the princess was very beautiful, and the kingdom was rich. So young princes and noblemen came from far and near with their stories.
The first one to come began his tale. He talked all day. The second and the third day he talked on and on. But the fourth day he could think of no more. He stammered and stopped. "Is that all?" asked the king. "Go on." But the young man could not say another word. "Away with him to the prison," cried the king. "Next!"
Another began a story without a moment's delay. He talked and he talked day after day, and week after week. But at last he, too, could say no more. And he was hurried away to prison.
This one was followed by a third. The third was followed by a fourth. And these were followed by many others. Some talked for weeks, some talked for months. But all came to an end at last, and were thrown into prison.
So for a long time the story-loving king was quite happy. though each story-teller had stopped at last, another was always ready to begin a new tale. Each one was sure he would win the princess and the kingdom. No one seemed to give a thought to the prison.
But there came a day when no one appeared as the king cried, "Next!"
The king waited a whole day, two days, three days, a week. No one came with a story.
The king was getting impatient. He must have a story. at last he was about to free his prisoners and give each another chance, when a young man appeared before him. He was not a prince; he was not a nobleman. He was the son of a poor workman who lived near the palace.
"Well, what do you want?" asked the king, who knew the young man.
"I came to tell you a story," was the reply,- "a story without an end."
"Indeed," sneered the king, "do you think you can do what a score of princes and nobleman have tried and given up?" "I am ready to try," answered the young man.
"Begin, then, at once," said the king. "Only remember, when you stop, to prison you go." "I have one favor to ask," said the youth.
"What is it?" asked the king, impatiently. "Do you promise to listen to the end?" "Yes, yes," cried the king; "only begin!" The young man began.
"There was once a king who built a barn. It was the largest barn ever seen. It took hours to walk from one side of it to the other. It took weeks to walk the length of it.
"Then the king had all his people sow all his lands with wheat. For miles and miles, there was nothing but wheat, wheat, wheat. "When the grain was ripe, the king had it all gathered into his great barn. "But the barn was not full.
Year after year the king's people sowed wheat. And all the ripe grain was gathered into this great barn.
"At last the king died, -- but still his barn was not full.
"The king's son became king, and he made all the people sow wheat. And all the ripe grain was gathered into the king's great barn. "After many years the son died, and still the barn was not full.
So one king followed another. And every one made all the people sow wheat. And all the ripe grain was gathered into the king's barn.
"At last, in the reign of the tenth king the great barn was filled full! "Then the king had every door and every window closed tight.
"'Never before was there such a pile of wheat in the whole world,' cried the king. 'And it's all mine. And it's all safe. There's not the smallest hole or crack in that barn!"
"But this proud king was wrong. There was just one hole in one corner of the barn. This hole was barely big enough to stick a large pin-head through. But this was enough!
"One day a hungry ant came that way. He found the one hole into the barn. It was just big enough for him to crawl through. He went in and brought out a grain of wheat.
"When he came out, another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat. "And when this ant came out, another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat.
"Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat. "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat.
All day long the story teller kept on saying, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat." In the morning he began again, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat."
"All the ants must have been in and brought out a grain of wheat; on with the story," cried the king.
"No, no," answered the young man, "there was a whole big hill of them." And he went on as before, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat.
"Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat." So he kept on with the story day after day.
At last the king broke in again. "Surely," he cried, "every one of those ants has been into the barn and brought out a grain of wheat."
"True," answered the young man, "and now they are going in again, one at a time." And he went on, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat."
Week after week he kept up his story with these words, over and over, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat."
At last the weary king interrupted again. "Ants don't live long," said he. "Every one of that hill of ants must have died long ago."
"True," answered the young man, with a smile, "the first hill of ants are all dead. It is their children that are going into the barn now. And after these have carried off grain all their lives, their children will take their places, and so on. Then another ant went --"
"Hold," cried the king, "leave that out, and go on with the story."
"No, king," answered the young man, "that is part of the story. I cannot omit it. And you have promised to listen to me."
So he went on again, "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat." "Then another ant went in and brought out a grain of wheat."
And the king listened, month after month.
Finally he could bear it no longer.
"Stop!" he cried. "Not another word! Take my daughter, take my kingdom, take everything I have! But never say ant or wheat to me again!"
So the young man was forced to end his story. The first thing he did was to set free the prisoners, -- the princes and noblemen who could not tell a story without an end. Then he married the beautiful princess. But he would not take the kingdom until the king died.
