King Oscar woke up with his stomach honking like a seal. He was hungry again.
“I think it is time for a snack,” he whispered, so he pulled on his warmest robe and tiptoed down the dark, drafty hall.
When the King struck a light in the kitchen he woke the Royal Cook, who was snoring in the potato bin.
“A thousand pardons,” the King yawned. “I merely wanted something to eat.”
The Cook caught one glimpse of the royal pajamas and leaped up. “Yes, sire! And Soup is just the thing!” He grabbed a giant saucepan and beat it with a spoon to awaken his helpers. “Wake up! Wake up! The King would have Soup!”
King Oscar shook his head sleepily, but the Cook was already shouting orders. The cooks sliced large, sweet onions from the village. They chopped carrots dug from the Royal Garden. They stirred and they salted, they cooked and they stirred. With a BANG! BONG! BANG! the pots clanged and were filled.
Soon the kingdom’s finest soup was simmering in a huge pot.
King Oscar sat up in his chair and accepted the spoon.
He SLOWLY took a sip.
“This soup is quite good,” he began. “But…”
“Your majesty, I see the soup is not good enough!” cried the Cook. “Give me another chance.” And before the King could even nod, the Cook leaped high in the air and banged pots and pans so fiercely he awoke the whole town.
“Climb out of your beds! The King would have Soup!”
The townspeople instantly answered his call. Bankers and shop clerks, grocers and butchers—all still in their pajamas—poured into the kitchen and began stirring and slicing.
The King tried to stop them, but the townspeople were much too busy to pay attention. They juggled red, ripe tomatoes. They passed giant melons through open windows. From each house and hut they brought food for the soup—old fine cheeses and wines and herbs from high windowsills.
When the soup was ready it was poured into the palace’s finest silver bowl. Then after much searching they found the King, who had hidden from all the noise in a closet. He yawned loudly and grabbed the spoon.
He SLOWLY took a sip.
This soup is VERY good,” he admitted. “But…”
“One more chance, your highness!” cried the Cook. “I won’t fail you again!” And before the King could stop him, the Cook grabbed a trumpet and leaned out the window.
TAROOT! TAROOOOT!! “To my aid, cooks of the kingdom. Soup for the King, the King MUST have Soup!”
And from all corners of the land, cooks answered the summons quicker than it takes to crack a speckled quail egg.
Cooks from the Great Sea arrived in tall swaying ships, bearing pink salmon and delicate oysters in the shell. Their nets were filled with baby squid and clumps of dripping seaweed.
From the northlands came mountain cooks, playing accordions and carrying heavy boxes on their sturdy backs. They brought herbs from snow-covered hills, sweet nuts and pinecones from evergreen forests.
Cooks from the lowlands arrived on squeaky bicycles, with golden corn and sacks of fresh-harvested barley balanced on their heads.
The kitchen was now jammed to overflowing with people! There were cooks and bakers and soldiers and sailors and farmers and grocers and bicycle repairmen—all laughing and singing and telling stories.
With a sign from the Cook they began peeling
and chopping
and mincing
and slicing
and shredding
and grating
and mixing
and boiling all the ingredients to make the best soup the world had EVER known.
In all the confusion someone even shoved a peeler into King Oscar’s hands. Since he didn’t want to appear ungrateful, the King put on an apron and began peeling potatoes.
When the soup was done simmering it was poured into a gold bowl shaped like a bumblebee. Then it was passed from cook to cook, who added just the right pinches of salt, pepper, garlic and sage.
With a fanfare of trumpets, the steaming bowl was at last presented to King Oscar, who quickly washed the peels from his hands and adjusted his royal robes.
Thousands held their breath as he guided the spoon to his lips.
He SLOWLY took a sip.
“MARVELOUS!” he shouted. “It’s the finest soup I’ve ever tasted!”
Cheers were heard miles around as the news was passed. The King liked his soup!
Everyone was so busy celebrating that they quickly forgot about King Oscar, who quietly set the bowl down. It truly was the best soup he’d ever tasted.
“But all I really wanted was a sandwich,” he said sadly.
And with the entire kingdom crowded around his kitchen table, King Oscar went back to bed—still hungry.
“I think I shall sleep late tomorrow,” he said with a smile. He pulled the covers up snugly under his chin. “Then I will have a BIG lunch.”
A lunch of everything but Soup.