Voices:  Narrator 
            Woodcutter 
            Amelora 
            Farmer Alvin 
            King 
            Rumpelstiltskin 
            Messenger 

Narrator: Once upon a time,  a poor woodcutter lived in a dilapidated old hut with his beautiful daughter, Amelora.

Woodcutter: Amelora, you grow lovelier every day. How could I have been so blessed as to have you for a daughter?

Amelora:  Oh, Father.  It is I who am blessed to have such a kind and loving father as you. 

Narrator:  One day, the woodcutter went into the village to sell his sticks of firewood when he met a friend selling milk. 

Woodcutter:  Hello, Farmer Alvin.  How goes it? 

Farmer Alvin: Fairly good.  How are you and your lovely daughter, 
Amelora?  Have you decided to let me marry her? 

Woodcutter:       She will marry the better of you, my friend. She is worth her weight in gold.  She can even make straw into gold! 

Farmer Alvin:    Gold, eh?  I hear the king is interested in gold. 

Woodcutter:       ’Tis a golden touch, she has! 

Narrator:    Not long after this,  Farmer Alvin took a load of milk to the king. 

King:  Here is a gold nugget for your milk.  Ah, gold.  I hate to part with it.... 

Farmer Alvin: I hear there is a girl in the village who can spin straw into gold. 

King:               Spin straw into gold!  Indeed? 

Farmer Alvin: Would I lie to His Majesty? 

King:               What would be her name? 

Farmer Alvin: Amelora, the daughter of the poor woodcutter. 

King: Guards, bring this Amelora to me!   Waste no time! 

Narrator:   The guards did as they were told and Amelora, wearing her loveliest cape, spun from golden flax, was brought before the king. 

King:             I have learned that YOU can spin straw into gold, young lady. 

Amelora:          Your Highness, I can do many things, but to... 

King:             Enough of this talk, follow me! 

Amelora:    But, your Highness... 

(Footsteps, door creaks) 

Narrator:      The king led the girl up a winding staircase to the top room of the castle.  There, he gestured to a pile of straw filling half of the room and a small lonely spinning wheel in one corner. 

Amelora:  Your Highness, I really don’t think  I can... 

King:   Silence!  Spin this straw into gold before the sun rises or you will die! 

Amelora: Gasp!    (Footsteps, door slams followed by a girl crying, sobbing) 

(Door Creaks) 

Narrator:          Amelora sat on a stool, crying helplessly, for she had no idea how to make gold from straw. Suddenly, the door swung open and an odd little man no taller than her knees appeared. 

Amelora:  (Honks, Sniffs)  Wh--wh-who are you?

Rumpelstiltskin:  Never mind WHO I am.  What will you give me to spin this straw into gold?

Amelora:     I am but a poor woodcutter’s daughter.  I have little, but I will gladly give you my necklace. 

Rumpelstiltskin: Good. 

Narrator:   The little man took the necklace and set to work at the spinning wheel.  By morning, piles of spun gold lay where, hours before, there was nothing but straw.  When the greedy king saw it, he was overjoyed. 

King:      Ah!  Amelora, my dear!  I am indeed pleased.  So pleased that I will give you another pile of straw to spin me more gold! 

Amelora:     What a creep...

Narrator:     Fortunately, the king was busy ordering more straw be brought into the small room and didn’t hear Amelora’s last crack. 

King:  By morning, this will all be gold, or you will die! 

Narrator:     Again, Amelora began to weep.  (Weeping sounds) And again, the door opened and in came the strange little man. 

Amelora:     It’s you. 

Rumpelstiltskin: What will you give me this time? 

Amelora:     I have this ring that my mother gave me before she died. 

Rumpelstiltskin:  Good. 

Narrator:      He sat down and began to spin the straw.  By sunrise, the room was again filled with spun gold. Again the king was delighted.  And again, he ordered more straw. 

King:    Amelora, if you will spin this straw into gold,  in the morning, I will marry you and make you my queen. 

Amelora:    Just what I always wanted... to be Queen McStingy! 

Narrator:  Luckily, the king didn’t hear that either.  He hurried away just before the little man appeared. 

Rumpelstiltskin: What will you give me this time? 

Amelora:     I’ve nothing left to give. 

Rumpelstiltskin:  Then, you shall give me your first child when you are queen. 

Amelora: I have no choice...I promise... 

Narrator:  The next morning, the straw was gold and the king married the woodcutter’s daughter.  A year later, the happy queen had a baby boy and had forgotten all about her promise when Rumpelstiltskin came to claim her baby. 

Amelora:     Oh, please, I beg you.  Do not take my baby from me! 

Rumpelstiltskin: If you can guess my name within three days, I will not take your baby boy.  If you cannot guess my name in three days, the child will be mine. 

Narrator:       All night the queen thought of names, hoping one of them would free her from her promise. The next morning, the little man appeared, and Amelora began to try the names. 

Amelora:      Is your name John? James? William? Ralph? Ben? Charles? Adam?  Rudolph? Richard? Claude?  Timothy?  Shannanook? 

Narrator:    With each name, the little man shook his head no.

Rumpelstiltskin:  None of those is my name. 

Narrator:      On the second day, she tried on even more names.

Amelora:    Franklin, George, Truman, Phillip, Trevor,  Trenton, Skipper, Malkezedek? 
Rumpelstiltskin: No,  none of those is my name. 

Narrator:       That night, one of the queen’s messengers came with news of a strange sight.

Messenger (Out of breath)  My queen, I was riding through the forest and caught sight of a fire.  I approached and saw an odd little man dancing around a campfire.

Amelora:       Quickly, Sir.  What else did you see? What did you hear?

Messenger:     While he danced, he sang a little song: “Today, I dance, tomorrow I brew. Then, dear prince, I come for you. None can guess, none can claim that Rumpelstiltskin is my name.” 

Narrator:          That night the little man came calling. 

Rumpelstiltskin: What is my name? 

Amelora:        Is it Peter? 

Rumpelstiltskin:  It is not! 

Amelora:      Is it Vincent? 

Rumpelstiltskin:  It is not! 

Amelora: Then, it must be Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin is your name! 

Rumpelstiltskin:  Curses!  (Screams)  (Stomps his feet) 

Narrator:         And, with that, the little man jumped out  the castle window and was never seen again. 

Return to Rumpelstiltskin's Daughter

Pages 176-177
Tales for Two Centuries

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