Gudgekin the Thistle Girl by John Gardner Page A

friends was none other than the fairies’ queen. Soon the fairies had gathered all the thistles for a mile around, and had filled the sack that Gudgekin had brought, and had also filled forty-three more, which they’d fashioned on the spot out of gossamer.
    â€œNow,” said the queen, “it’s time that you saw the world.”
    Immediately the fairies set to work all together and built a beautiful chariot as light as the wind, all transparent gossamer woven like fine thread. The chariot was so light that it needed no horses but flew along over the ground by itself, except when it was anchored with a stone. Next they made the thistle girl a gown of woven gossamer so lovely that not even the queen of the kingdom had anything to rival it; indeed, no one anywhere in the world had such a gown or has ever had, even to this day. For Gudgekin’s head the fairies fashioned a flowing veil as light and silvery as the lightest, most silvery of clouds, and they sprinkled both the veil and the gown with dew so they glittered as if with costly jewels.
    Then, to a tinny little trumpeting noise, the queen of the fairies stepped into the chariot and graciously held out her tiny hand to the thistle girl.
    No sooner was Gudgekin seated beside the queen than the chariot lifted into the air lightly, like a swift little boat, and skimmed the tops of the fields and flew away to the capital.
    When they came to the city, little Gudgekin could scarcely believe her eyes. But there was no time to look at the curious shops or watch the happy promenading of the wealthy. They were going to the palace, the fairy queen said, and soon the chariot had arrived there.
    It was the day of the kingdom’s royal ball, and the chariot was just in time. “I’ll wait here,” said the kindly queen of the fairies. “You run along and enjoy yourself, my dear.”
    Happy Gudgekin! Everyone was awed by her lovely gown and veil; and even the fact that the fairies had neglected to make shoes for her feet, since they themselves wore none, turned out to be to Gudgekin’s advantage. Barefoot dancing immediately became all the rage at court, and people who’d been wearing fine shoes for years slipped over to the window and slyly tossed them out, not to be outdone by a stranger. The thistle girl danced with the prince himself, and he was charmed more than words can tell. His smile seemed all openness and innocence, yet Gudgekin had a feeling he was watching her like a hawk. He had a reputation throughout the nine kingdoms for subtlety and shrewdness.
    When it was time to take the thistle sacks back to her cruel stepmother, Gudgekin slipped out, unnoticed by anyone, and away she rode in the chariot.
    â€œWell, how was it?” asked the queen of the fairies happily.
    â€œWonderful! Wonderful!” Gudgekin replied. “Except I couldn’t help but notice how gloomy people were, despite their merry chatter. How sadly they frown when they look into their mirrors, fixing their make-up. Some of them frown because their feet hurt, I suppose; some of them perhaps because they’re jealous of someone; and some of them perhaps because they’ve lost their youthful beauty. I could have wept for them!”
    The queen of the fairies frowned pensively. “You’re a good-hearted child, that’s clear,” she said, and fell silent.
    They reached the field, and the thistle girl, assisted by a thousand fairies, carried her forty-four sacks to her wicked stepmother. The stepmother was amazed to see so many thistle sacks, especially since some of them seemed to be coming to the door all by themselves. Nevertheless, she said—for her fear of humiliation so drove her that she was never satisfied—“A paltry forty-four, Gudgekin! If you don’t bring more thistles tomorrow, it’s away to the Home with you!”
    Little Gudgekin bowed humbly, sighed with resignation, forced to her lips a happy smile,