Once, in a kingdom far, far away, farther than you can fly in one day, there lived a prince. He was a real prince, used to riches and luxury. He slept on feather beds and dined on exotic, expensive food whenever he felt like it. The king and the queen didn’t seem to mind. They were far too engrossed in the war with their neighbouring kingdoms to watch the state of their coffers.

Then the kingdom fell on hard times. They had won the war, but at great price. And not just financially. Many young men had been killed and the kingdom subsequently developed an economic crisis when there was a shortage of workers to hall in the harvest. If the royal family didn’t want to dine off of pewter plates (the gold plates had long been sold) and eat beans, peas and other such economic fare every day for the rest of their lives, something had to be done.

And the prince had to do it.

It was decided that the prince would have to marry. A royal marriage would boost the people’s morale, and if the prince married a rich princess, money would flow into the kingdom once more.

But the prince was a real prince, as I’ve mentioned before. A real prince needs a real princess. A certain amount of outdated ideas accompany blue blood, and this was one of them. This prince was as pig-headed as they come, and would not let go of this requirement. He traveled far and wide, but couldn’t find a princess he liked. He finally returned home to find his father in near despair.

“Son, did you find a princess?” the king asked anxiously. He didn’t share the opinion of the queen and prince that only a real princess was good enough. Someone of good standing would do, he felt.

“No, father. No one seemed royal enough to be my wife,” the prince replied disdainfully. The queen nodded, “Good for you! Don’t take second-best!” The queen was naturally distrustful of all young women claiming to be princesses. These claims were hard to verify: civil servants could be bribed very easily these days. She had already unmasked three girls with fake birth certificates this month.

The king sighed, and decided to go for a walk. Things were really getting desperate now in the kingdom. His dear wife and son did not realize how bad the situation actually was, as they rarely featured out of the palace. His son needed to find a bride, soon. As he stared into the water, a plan began to ripen in his mind. He did not like having to trick his son, but pushed aside his fatherly feelings for the good of the kingdom.

A few days later, he ventured into his sons wing of the palace. The prince was just getting ready for bed, but agreed to listen to a suggestion.

“Son, why don’t you have a ball at the palace next month and invite all the eligible young ladies? I know you’ve seen most of them already, but what if you missed one? She could be the real princess you’re looking for!”

The son nodded. “That’s a good idea!” he exclaimed, privately annoyed he hadn’t thought of it himself.

And so it was done. Young ladies of good standing came from far and wide to attend the ball of the prince. There was one guest of honor: Gwendolyn, the daughter of an old friend of the king’s. Gwendolyn was, as she told the prince, a real princess. She was a princess of rich kingdom, quite a ways away, and she was of marrying age.

She’s also quite beautiful, thought the prince. This is the girl I want to marry!

After the ball, he invited Gwendolyn to come stay at the palace for a while. Gwendolyn gladly accepted and joined them as soon as she could.

The king chuckled, because it seemed his plan was working. He took his son and wife apart and suggested a test.

“Son, wife, how do we know she’s a real princess? Her kingdom is far away, and heaven knows we can’t trust documents anymore! That’s why I propose this. Why don’t we lay a single pea beneath twenty feather beds and twenty mattresses. If she feels it, she’s a real princess, if she sleeps well, she’s a fraud. It’s as simple as that!”

The prince and the queen considered this for a while, then proclaimed their agreement. Putting a pea in a princess’s bed was tradition, and like all slightly stupid royals, they liked tradition. The king had anticipated their reaction. So far, so good, he thought. Now it’s up to Gwendolyn to play her part. He had sent her a royal letter before the ball with instructions, outlining his plans.

So said, so done. The princess’s bed was made up, and a pea very carefully placed in the exact center of the bed, under twenty feather beds and twenty mattresses. The princess retired early, claiming tiredness because of all the excitement.

The royal family waited anxiously for her to come downstairs the next morning. The king was especially anxious, because this was the crucial detail of his plan. If this went well, the kingdom would prosper; if it failed, who knew what would happen? He glumly had visions of peasants coming to get him, yelling, “Off with his head!”

The princess came down the stairs, yawning as she went. She had great big circles under her eyes.

“How did you sleep, dear?” the queen asked before she had set foot on the bottom step.

“Not well at all! I think I’m black and blue all over. Something was pricking me however which way I turned and tossed. I didn’t want to mention it, but real princesses have very thin skin. That’s why they sleep on hand-stuffed feather beds.“

The queen went limp with relief. Gwendolyn was a real princess after all!

The prince experienced a similar reaction, then gathered her into his arms and exclaimed, “You’re the one I want to marry!”

The princess let herself get swept up into his arms, but not before she winked at the king, whose plan had saved his kingdom.