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“Stuff and nonsense!” said the King. “I shall give you to the Prince of Gold.”

“I wish I had the good luck to please her,” muttered the young Prince. But he had not, for all his beauty and his wealth. However, she was to marry him, and that was something.

The preparations for the wedding were magnificent.

“It is a great expense,” sighed the King, “but then I get the Prince of Gold for a son-in-law.”

The Prince and his bride drove round the city in a triumphal procession. Her hair fell over her like sunshine, but the starlight of her eyes was cold.

In the train rode the Prince of Moonshine, dressed in silver, and with no colour in his face.

As the bridal chariot approached one of the city gates, two black ravens hovered over it, and then flew away, and settled on a tree.

Good Luck was sitting under the tree to see his godson’s triumph, and he heard the birds talking above him.

“Has the Prince of Gold no friend who can tell him that there is a loose stone above the archway that is tottering to fall?” said they. And Good Luck covered his face with his mantle as the Prince drove through.

Just as they were passing out of the gateway the stone fell on to the Prince’s head. He wore a casque of pure gold, but his neck was broken.

“We can’t have all this expense for nothing,” said the King:
so he married his daughter to the Prince of Moonshine. If one
can’t get gold one must be content with silver.

“Will you come to the funeral?” asked Dame Fortune of the godfather.

“Not I,” replied Good Luck. “I had no hand in this matter.”

The rain came down in torrents. The black feathers on the ravens’ backs looked as if they had been oiled.

“Caw! caw!” said they. “It was an unlucky end.”

However, the funeral was a very magnificent one, for there was no stint of gold.