Monday, March 16, 2009
One of the greatest appeals in buying" handmade" is that FOR EVERY ITEM THERE'S ALWAYS A STORY, some are taller, some are smaller and then there's mine......
...Once upon a time,long,long ago, there was a beautiful young seamstress who labored day and night, always at the whim of her two spinster, sisters.
It was the night before the prince’s coronation ball that the spinster sisters came for their final fitting. Their skirts swished with beads and braids, and bodices sparkled with jeweled buttons. As the old wives tale foretold, “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear”… it was true, the two older sisters looked like gilded hams. Screaming in disgust they ripped the tulle from their skirts and the bows from their bustles.
All through the night, the young seamstress picked and patched, and added to every seam and dart, all the while weeping without sound. Working by candlelight, with needle and thread she collapsed at her table in exhaustion. Even in sleep, tears continued to melt from her lashes. The wetness pooled, and then spilled to the floor like falling beads from a broken necklace.
It was that sound of bouncing beads that caused the commotion from within the sewing basket. It’s lid lifted slightly. Then out poked little arms and itsy, bitsy, slippered feet until the lid flew fully open. A darning needle clinked repeatedly against a metal thimble like a trumpeter’s call to action. From the hollows of the thread cones climbed fairies, like toy children, yawning, rubbing eyes and stretching wrinkled wings. The fairies were like toy children.
A little green boy suddenly took flight and scooped from the floor, the most magnificent, the most breathe-takingly beautiful teardrop pearl. All was hushed while he closely examined its size, shape and luster. He shouted out in a loud, little voice, his devine pronouncement, “She’s the one! No creature of land or sea can produce a more perfect pearl.” They move
A happy dance and a fairy chant honored their princess while she continued to sleep deeply. Like hummingbirds, the fairies dipped and darted through a storm of lace stitching and weaving,tucking and pulling. For final good measure, the little green boy lifted the silver thimble and from high above the sewing table tipped its contents out. The fairies with their lacy wings fanned the glittering dust to every fibber and every fold.
It was the magic of the drifting fairy dust that tickled the young lady’s face. Her awakening was slow as her eyes were disbelieving. She didn’t see the two beautifully finished gowns hanging from the rack. Nor did she hear the piccolo flutes. Her only focus was the view just inches from the end of her nose. On the table before her was a circle of fairies, singing and dancing hand in hand, round and round.
The object of their attention lay in the center of their fairy ring, catching the luminescence of a dawning sunrise. There rested a silken pillow, describable only with heavenly words. The young girl dared reach out, fingers feather- lightly touching the mass of tiny, tiny, stitches embroidered as scenic toile … a story of love, life and laughter. Amidst these satin vignettes were sprays of teardrop pearls and bouquets of precious gemstones each laced to the fabric with threads of silver and gold.
That evening, all the gowned and garnished guests greeted the prince with proper pomp and ceremony. The two spinster sisters, all poured and pressed into their new gowns, gushed and blathered before the handsome young prince hoping to win his smile. It was almost midnight when the young prince, now a crowned king, opened the last of his inaugural gifts. About to retire from the banquet hall, he halted at the sight of the young seamstress standing shyly in the entrance doorway.
The guests gasped, not in shame of her dress, but in awe of the ethereal beauty of the magnificently regal pillow she placed at the king’s feet. Transfixed by her beauty, he reached to lift her up. A tear of happiness slipped from her cheek and fell to the floor as a pearl. He knew then that she was the fairies’ princess as foretold by the old wives.
The very next day, the beautiful young seamstress and the handsome young king were married and lived happily ever after. She was lovingly remembered as the “Pillow Queen” as she continued to make her magnificent regal pillows, as did her daughter, and her daughter's daughter.
.. My mom told me this story when she gave me this old sewing basket, just like Gramma told her, and so on and so on.
I have such a PASSION for pillows! My Etsy friends call me the Queen of Pillows but I'm not sure if has anything to do with fairies. Sometimes I think I see itsy bitsy foot prints in the velvet nap. I find spools of thread in places I haven't put them.... And there's something going on in the basket but I'll save that for another story.