Once the king sponsored a great feast and invited from far and near all the men wanting to get married. They were all placed in a row according to their rank and standing. First came the kings, then the grand dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons, and the aristocracy. Then the king's daughter was led through the ranks, but she objected to something about each one. One was too fat: "The wine barrel," she said. Another was too tall: "Thin and tall, no good at all." The third was too short: "Short and thick is never quick." The fourth was too pale: "As pale as death." The fifth too red: "A prize rooster." The sixth was not straight enough: "Green wood, dried behind the stove."
And thus she had some objection to each one, but she ridiculed especially one good king who stood at the very top of the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked. "Look!" she cried out, laughing, "He has a chin like a thrush's beak." And from that time he was called Thrushbeard.
Now the old king, seeing that his daughter did nothing but ridicule the people, making fun of all the suitors who were gathered there, became very angry, and he swore that she should have for her husband the very first beggar to come to his door.
A few days later a minstrel came and sang beneath the window, trying to earn a small handout.
When the king heard him he said, "Let him come up."
So the minstrel, in his dirty, ragged clothes, came in and sang before the king and his daughter, and when he was finished he asked for a small gift.
The king said, "I liked your song so much that I will give you my daughter for a wife."
The king's daughter took fright, but the king said, "I have taken an oath to give you to the very first beggar, and I will keep it."
Her protests did not help. The priest was called in, and she had to marry the minstrel at once. After that had happened the king said, "It is not proper for you, a beggar's wife, to stay in my palace any longer. All you can do now is to go away with your husband."
The beggar led her out by the hand, and she had to leave with him, walking on foot.
They came to a large forest, and she asked, "Who owns this beautiful forest?"
"It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would be yours."
"Oh, I am a miserable thing; If only I'd taken the Thrushbeard King."
Afterwards they crossed a meadow, and she asked again, "Who owns this beautiful green meadow?"
"It belongs to king Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would be yours."
"Oh, I am a miserable thing; If only I'd taken the Thrushbeard King."