Free Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale by Kristen Niedfeldt Page B

to
the passing commoners, she looked like a beggar.
    She decided to let out her braid to let
her hair hang loose to conceal her face. How she prayed no one she knew would
stumble upon her!
    She was thus sitting when an elderly man
with long, white hair began setting up his merchandise in the scant space next
to her area.  
    He shuffled around, carefully setting
out fine pieces of jewelry on a small table. He didn’t have much, but the few
pieces he did have were breathtaking. Liesel eyed each of the pieces longingly.
Her spirits fell, knowing she would never wear such things again.
    After all of the necklaces and bracelets
had been arranged just as he wished, he caught her looking at him and greeted
her with a nod and a cheery, “Good morning.”
    “Good morning,” she returned, looking
away. 
    “You are new to this street,” he
remarked. “I haven’t seen you before.”
    She nodded.
    “My name’s Albert. What do they call
you?”
    Fiddling with her skirt, she wondered
how she should answer. She was tempted to lie to better protect her true
identity, but his kind smile gave her the courage to at least admit, “My name’s
Liesel.”
    Speaking the words aloud made her feel
so plain and empty without her title. Her dirty dress didn’t help either.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Liesel. What
brings you to these parts?”
    “I need to earn money … so I can be
married.”
    “It’s a lucky fellow who has stolen your
heart,” he complimented with a kind smile.
    Liesel blushed, but didn’t admit that
neither she nor the future groom had had any choice in the matter.
    A gruff, middle-aged man approached,
saving her from any reply. She watched him pick up one of her large jugs and
inspect it thoroughly, turning it over in his hands.
    “How much for this?” he asked at length.
    She shrugged. “How much do you want to
pay me?”
    One of his eyebrows rose with interest.
“Two copper coins,” he declared confidently.
    “Suits me,” Liesel said, accepting his
money.
    “And two coins for this vase?” he
pressed, selecting another item eagerly.
    Liesel nodded. After handing her the
money, the man quickly disappeared down the lane.
    The old man beside her cleared his
throat and remarked, “Might I offer a suggestion?”
    “If you must.”
    “I think you might have more luck if you
set your prices a little higher.”
    “What do you mean ‘more luck?’ I just
sold two items.”
    “For very, very little …” Albert
replied with a cringe.
    Liesel felt her ears grow hot. How was
she to know? Oh, how she hated feeling foolish.
    He patted her hand in an attempt to
comfort her. “A simple word of advice—if a customer acts too eager, then you
aren’t charging enough.”
    “What should I charge?”
    “That will vary with each item … In the
least, you should recommend a price that gives you room to negotiate. People
expect as much in the market.”
    Liesel groaned. She did not feel
comfortable with these sorts of matters.
    She sat in dejection, worrying over her
inevitable failure as a merchant. Her eyes wandered over each of the pots. What
price should she ask? They certainly didn’t appear to be worth that much by her
standards.
    Fortunately, with her head bowed, she
avoided attracting any more customers for the rest of the day so she never had
to make a decision about it. Not until she was collecting her pottery pieces to
place them back into her handcart, did anyone else approach her.
    A little girl came forward and tugged on
her skirt.
    “That boy just stole a cup!” the girl
cried, pointing at a retreating figure running down the street.
    Liesel watched helplessly as he
disappeared, her hands on her hips. He must have stolen it when she had had her
back turned, she realized. She exhaled a sigh of frustration and turned back to
the girl.
    “Thank you for telling me,” she said,
patting the girl on the head.
    The girl raised her small hand, palm up,
and waited patiently in front of her.
    Liesel