Once there were two bears, Big Bear and Little Bear. Big Bear is the big bear and Little Bear is the little bear. They played all day in the light of the bright sunlight.

All day long, Little Bear knew the sun was going to go away. At noon, he thought: this is as high as the sun will get. Now we are only waiting for night. Little Bear knew better than to be comforted by the morning. When he opened his eyes at sunrise each day, he thought Now the next thing that will happen is night. Every day, night came along and spoiled the sunshine for him.

His shadow got longer, and waved to him. Little Bear’s shadow was bigger than he was. Soon it would be bigger than everything.

When night-time came, and the sun went down, Big Bear took Little Bear home to the Bear Cave.

Previously in this series: The Little Red Hen. Original texts by the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault.

There once was a king who had a beautiful wife, and many other beautiful things besides. He was gentle in peace and terrible in war. Every country he found, he conquered, and every country he conquered he plundered, because he was a man who knew the value of things. And he brought gifts on the backs of serving-men to his beautiful wife, and he had them spilled at her beautiful feet, until the floor of their castle shone almost as brilliantly as her golden hair. And she clapped her hands in delight to see what he had brought her.

She had no equal in beauty in any of the lands he visited, so he knew the value of her.

Previously in this series: The little mermaid. Original text by the Brothers Grimm here.

In an old time in an old country there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful and all unlucky. To be beautiful in this country was to be noticed by men; for this reason the girls were unlucky. It is lucky for a woman not to be noticed. In this country, women prayed to secret gods to let them be forgotten. They prayed with their faces to the floor.

It was the king’s youngest daughter who was the most unlucky. She was so beautiful that the sun itself noticed and fell in love with her, and never let its rays stray from her face for even a moment. She slept with her face jammed into a pillow and the coverlets over her head, but the sun could not let her sleep unnoticed, and every day it found her, and every day it woke her while everyone else was still asleep. Beauty is never private.

“Beauty belongs to everyone,” the king told his daughters. “Beauty is a public good.”

“What does that mean?” the youngest princess asked.

“It means you belong to everyone,” the king said. (The king was not beautiful, but he was covered in beautiful objects, which amounted to more or less the same thing.)

“Then don’t I also belong — at least partly — to myself?” said the princess. The sun burned hot on her forehead.

“Don’t be clever,” the king said.

Previously in this series: Love You Forever. Original text by Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont.

There was once a rich merchant, who had three daughters. Being a man of sense and careful daughter-husbandry, he kept them well, for he always made money on his investments. The girls were exceedingly handsome, particularly the youngest. When she was little everybody admired her, and called her “The little Beauty;” so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous.

She would answer to no other name. She did not know how to protect herself from the envy of others, which is to say she did not know how to survive. Instead she read books.

The two eldest had a great deal of pride, because they knew their own worth. because they were rich. They went out every day to parties of pleasure, balls, plays, concerts, and so forth, and they laughed at their youngest sister, and they made themselves happy. They answered to their given names.

All at once the merchant lost his whole fortune, excepting a small country house at a great distance from town, and told his children with tears in his eyes, they must go there and work for their living.

Beauty at first was sadly grieved at the loss of her fortune; but she had ever found that if she made herself smaller, life would trouble her less. Beauty rose at four in the morning, and made haste to have the house clean, and dinner ready for the family. No one paid her for it, and no one thanked her for it, either, and so gradually she ceased to think of it as work and began to think of it as her nature. She expected it from herself as others expected it of her, and who can be grateful for what is supposed to come naturally?

After she had done her work, she read. Reading was, as ever, her great comfort. And still she only answered to Beauty. Her reasons were her own.