Latin American Folktales by John Bierhorst Page A

on earth. Her horse was bridled in silver and gold, and as radiant as she had seemed the other two times, she was even more radiant now. Juanito rushed toward her and locked his arm in hers. He swept her into the ballroom. They began to dance. Just to be safe, he doubled the guard at the door so she couldn’t escape. But nothing could stand in her way. When he’d given her a jeweled ring, and she’d handed him a gift in exchange, she suddenly disappeared.
    The guards ran after her, but already she was far in the distance. Poor Juanito suffered a fainting spell.
    Once more she pulled on the snug little lion’s skin. Later, when Juanito returned to the palace, he went straight to bed, so badly smitten that even a swallow of water wouldn’t go down his throat. His mother was beside herself; Juanito was her only child.
    And this went on for a week, then another week. At last the little lioness asked her mistress if she thought the prince might like a few tarts. The prince was asked. He said no, he couldn’t eat a thing. But shouldn’t she make them anyway, just on a chance? No, no, said the queen. Goodness! If he knew that a lioness had made them, why would he touch them?
    The lioness said, “Why would he know?”
    So the little lioness made three tarts. In one she put the gold band, in another the gold chain, and in the third the jeweled ring. If the prince wouldn’t eat them, at least he could cut them open.
    The queen brought the tarts to his room, and when he opened the first, there was the gold band. In the second, the gold chain. And in the third, the jeweled ring. The breath of life returned to his body. “Mama, who made these tarts?”
    Already the lioness had changed into her gown the color of all the stars in the sky, and when she came into the prince’s room he said to his mama, “This is the princess I told you about.”
    He recovered immediately. There were royal feasts and dances. They called in a priest, who performed the wedding. Then Juanito became king. Rosa was queen. And they went right on living with Juanito’s mama.
    Puerto Rico

12. The Horse of Seven Colors
    A man with three sons had a wheat field that was being devoured night after night. He decided his sons should be his watchmen. He called his eldest and said, “Go out to the field and see what’s eating up the wheat.”
    Just before dark the eldest son arrived at the wheat field, but instead of watching he dozed off. When morning came, whatever it was had been at it again and the wheat was torn up.
    The father gave the boy a scolding and sent his second son. The boy went out to the field at nightfall, then lay down to sleep after finishing his supper bag. Again, in the morning, whatever creature it was had torn up the wheat.
    The bewildered father surveyed his losses and began to grieve. The youngest son said, “Father, give me a chance.”
    “You’re too young.”
    The boy insisted. He bought a guitar and a packet of straight pins and set off for the field. When he had hung his hammock, he stuck it full of pins except for a space in the middle where he lay down. Then he plucked the strings of the guitar and began to sing.
    By midnight nothing had happened, and he dozed off. The moment he rolled over, the pins pricked him, forcing him to play another song. Through the night the pins and the guitar kept him awake, and just before daylight something came crashing into the wheat field. He threw his rope and caught a little parti-colored horse that looked at him mournfully and said, “Don’t kill me. Let me go and I’ll be your helper.”
    “I don’t believe it!”
    “You should, because I’m the Horse of Seven Colors. I’ll help you whenever you need me, for the rest of your life.”
    “Do you swear you’ll never eat Papa’s wheat again?”
    “I swear.”
    The boy untied the rope, and the grateful horse gave him a little wand. “Use this wand to call me. No matter where you are, I’ll be there in a moment.” The horse said