The Grand Parade

All through the night before the great parade, the two cunning weavers remained awake in their castle workshop. They lit twenty thick wax candles and placed them around the room, so that everyone passing in the street below could see how hard they were laboring to complete the King's new suit. They made a great show of reaching up to the looms, taking down the invisible cloth, and folding it with delicate care. They cut the empty air with giant pairs of iron scissors, and they stitched through empty space with long needles that held no thread whatsoever.

At last, as the morning sun rose over the castle towers, the two weavers threw open the doors and proclaimed in loud, triumphant voices: "Behold! The King's new garments are completely finished!"

A few moments later, the King arrived at the workshop, surrounded by his highest lords, ministers, and courtiers. The two weavers lifted their arms high into the air as if they were holding up a series of delicate garments. "Here are the trousers, Your Majesty!" said the first weaver proudly. "Here is the royal coat! And here is the magnificent long train of your imperial robe!"

"The fabric is as light as a spider's web," the second weaver explained with a deep bow. "When you put it on, it will feel as light as air, as if you were wearing nothing at all! That is the true magic, wonder, and elegance of this supernatural cloth!"

"Yes, indeed! It is wonderful!" chorused all the noble gentlemen and ladies, nodding their heads in agreement. Yet try as they might, not a single one of them could see anything, because there was nothing in the world to see.

"Will Your Imperial Majesty be pleased to take off your current clothes?" the weavers asked with great respect. "Then we shall have the honor of dressing you in your new garments right here before the grand royal mirror."

The King took off his velvet coat, his silk shirt, and his trousers, until he stood in his underwear before the tall looking-glass. The two weavers stepped forward and moved their hands around his body with practiced skill. They pretended to hand him the invisible trousers, button invisible golden buttons, and smooth invisible seams around his chest and waist. Then they draped the invisible royal robe over his shoulders and tied an imaginary golden belt tightly around his middle.

The King turned from side to side before the mirror, gazing at his reflection and admiring his bare arms and legs. "How wonderfully the new suit fits!" he declared, trying to sound proud and untroubled. "What an extraordinary pattern! What glorious colors!"

"The royal canopy is waiting outside in the courtyard, Your Majesty!" announced the master of ceremonies in a solemn voice. "The grand procession is ready to begin!" "I am quite ready," replied the King, puffing out his chest. "Do my new clothes suit me well?" "They are absolute perfection, Your Majesty!" exclaimed all the courtiers, bowing down low.

Two noble lords who were chosen to carry the King's royal train bent down and reached their hands toward the floor. They stood up and held their hands high in the air, pretending to hold the long edge of the robe. They marched behind the King with careful, solemn steps, not daring to let anyone imagine for a single second that their hands were holding nothing but empty air.

And so the King marched out into the bright morning sunshine under a magnificent velvet canopy. The royal musicians played their shining golden trumpets, drums rolled, and the grand procession moved into the crowded streets of the capital city. Tens of thousands of citizens lined the roads, while hundreds more leaned out of high windows, balconies, and rooftops to witness the historic spectacle.

"How magnificent the King's new clothes are!" shouted the people in the crowd. "Look at the lovely pattern on his coat! Look at the splendid long train of his robe! How gracefully it moves in the wind!" Nobody in the whole city dared to admit that they saw nothing, because that would mean they were foolish, stupid, or unfit for their jobs. Never in the history of the kingdom had any of the King's outfits received such wild praise and loud cheering. ",

The King marched proudly down the center of the avenue, smiling and waving to his cheering subjects. But near the front row of the crowd, a small child stood holding his father's hand. The little boy looked at the King walking under the velvet canopy in his underwear. The child looked with wide, clear, and innocent eyes. He rubbed his eyes, looked once more, and then could hold his tongue no longer.

"But he has nothing on at all!" the child shouted in a clear, sweet voice that echoed across the quiet street.

The boy's father turned bright red with panic and quickly placed a hand over his son's mouth. "Hush, child! Listen to the voice of innocent youth!" the father whispered nervously. But a woman standing nearby had heard the child's words. She turned to her neighbor and whispered: "Did you hear what that little boy said? He says the King has no clothes on!"

"A child says the King is wearing nothing at all!" the neighbor whispered to the next person. The whisper spread like wildfire from ear to ear, from the sidewalks to the balconies, from the soldiers to the merchants. "He has nothing on! A child says he has no clothes! He has nothing on!"

Suddenly, the entire crowd could hold back no longer. A roar of laughter erupted from thousands of voices and rolled across the city: "He has nothing on! The King has no clothes! The King is naked!"

The King heard the laughter and shivered from head to foot. A cold wave of shame washed over him, because in his heart, he knew that the people were speaking the absolute truth. He had been completely fooled by two clever thieves, and he was parading through his capital in his underwear! But the King straightened his back and thought to himself: "The procession must go on to the very end! I am the King, and I must be brave!"

So the King held his head even higher, marching forward with royal dignity, while his faithful noble lords walked behind him, carefully holding up the long, invisible train that was not there at all.