Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..

There once lived a King who had but one son. When the Prince reached marriageable age, he told his parents: "I wish to marry the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Therefore, I am going to journey far and wide until I find her."

The Prince departed from his fine palace and traveled until he came upon a fountain. There, he stopped to take a drink. As the young Prince bent over the water, he saw reflected in the smooth surface, three oranges. Looking up, the youth spied three large and beautiful fruits hanging from the branch of an orange tree.

"How tasty they would seem to be," mused the Prince. Climbing the tree, he plucked the three oranges from the branch. When the Prince cut open the first orange, a lovely maiden emerged.

"Give me bread," said the maiden to the Prince, but the Prince could not.

"I do not have any," he replied sorrowfully.

"Then to my orange I will return," stated the maiden...and the orange became whole again.

Then, the Prince cut open the second orange. From this fruit also sprang a maiden and she was much more beautiful than the first.

"Give me bread," she demanded of the Prince, but he could not.

"I do not have any," he replied, hanging his head.

"In that case," said the maiden, "to my orange I will return." And she did...and the orange became whole once more.

The Prince thoughtfully considered the situation. He decided to obtain some bread before cutting open the third orange, just in case another maiden should appear and ask for the same thing. As the Prince was making his plans, a gypsy came by driving a cart.

"Amigo," cried the Prince, "I will give you a gold coin for a piece of bread."

Hurriedly, the gypsy alighted from his cart, hastening to give the Prince some bread. Now happy and satisfied, the Prince set about cutting open the third orange and, from that orange, appeared a maiden who was a thousand times more fair than either of the two who had come before her.

"Give me bread," said the third maiden.

Joyously, the Prince obliged. The lady of the orange then exclaimed, "Now, I am yours and you can do with me what you please!"

"It pleases me to marry you," answered the Prince.

Since the maiden was unclothed and since the Prince did not want to carry her back to the Palace in such an immodest condition, he looked around for suitable garments. He examined the clothes of the gypsy, but they were ragged and filthy. So, the Prince told the maiden, "Remain here while I go and bring a fine gown for you to wear."

Now the gypsy had a daughter who had been asleep in the cart and who had not witnessed what had taken place. The daughter awoke as the Prince was riding away and, at the very sight of him, became utterly enamored. Leaping from the cart, the gypsy girl asked her father what had transpired and he told her everything that had happened.

The gypsy girl sidled over the comely maiden and said, "Please allow me to comb your hair so that you will be all the more beautiful when your Prince returns."

Happily, the maiden agreed, but as the gypsy girl began combing, she suddenly thrust a pin into the lady's head. Immediately, the maiden turned into a dove. The gypsy girl then removed her clothes and sat where the lady had been previously sitting.

Soon, the Prince returned and, upon seeing the gypsy witch, exclaimed: "Senorita, how dark you have become!"

"The sun has burned my skin," answered the witch.

Believing the gypsy girl to be the lady from the orange, the Prince took the girl back to the Palace and there, they married with all due ceremony and celebration.

One day, a dove arrived at the garden of the King and said to the gardener, "Tell me, sir, how are the Prince and his wife?"

"Ah," replied the old man, "sometimes the Prince sings, but more often than not, he weeps."

From that day on, the little dove would come to the garden and ask the same question again and again. Finally, the gardener told the Prince about the dove. The Prince ordered the gardener to capture the bird the next time it came to the garden. The gardener limed the tree where the dove always rested and, the next day, when it tried to fly away, it could not. Gently, the gardener snared the dove and carried it to the Prince.

The Prince was enchanted with the little bird. He took it into his hands and began to stroke the tiny head. Feeling the head of the pin, the Prince pulled it out. Immediately, the dove changed back into the maiden of the orange.

Then, the beautiful maid recounted to the Prince all that had happened and the Prince relayed the tale to his father, the King. Greatly angered, the King commanded that the gypsy witch be burned at the stake...but the Prince and the lady of the orange married and lived happily ever after.

Novareinna welcomes all tale-travelers to Penumbra, her beautiful site/sight of stories and poetry and design.