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 They lived happily together, and in course of time a beautiful boy was born to them.

When eight years had passed, the King’s heart grew tender within him as he thought of his father, and he wanted to go home to see him. But the Queen did not want him to go. She said, ‘I know it will be to my misfortune.’ However, he gave her no peace till she agreed to let him go. On his departure she gave him a wishing-ring, and said, ‘Take this ring, and put it on your finger, and you will at once be at the place where you wish to be. Only, you must promise never to use it to wish me away from here to be with you at your father’s.’

He made the promise, and put the ring on his finger; he then wished himself before the town where his father lived, and at the same moment found himself at the gate. But the sentry would not let him in because his clothes, though of rich material, were of such strange cut. So he went up a mountain, where a Shepherd lived, and, exchanging clothing with him, put on his old smock, and passed into the town unnoticed.

When he reached his father he began making himself known; but his father, never thinking that it was his son, said that it was true he had once had a son, but he had long been dead. But, he added, seeing that he was a poor Shepherd, he would give him a plate of food.

The supposed Shepherd said to his parents, ‘I am indeed your son. Is there no mark on my body by which you may know me?’

His mother said, ‘Yes, our son has a strawberry mark under his right arm.’

He pushed up his shirt sleeve, and there was the strawberry mark; so they no longer doubted that he was their son. He told them that he was the King of the Golden Mountain, his wife was a Princess, and they had a little son seven years old.

‘That can’t be true,’ said his father. ‘You are a fine sort of King to come home in a tattered Shepherd’s smock.’

His son grew angry, and, without stopping to reflect, turned his ring round and wished his wife and son to appear.