Hans Christian Andersen Page #5

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Why were you trying to take it?

- I wasn't trying to steal it. It's mine.

- Then why is it addressed to my wife?

- Niels, what is all this?

- It's mine! Please give it to me. It's mine!

Now, who wrote this?

I did.

You did?

Suppose you tell me why you happened

to write this story to my wife?

It's nothing to do with you or her.

It's just a story.

He made up a story, that's all.

He's always making up stories,

and he made up this one.

Now would you mind telling me

just who he is?

We know you didn't write it, so you might

just as well stop lying. Who is he?

A friend of mine.

What's his name?

Hans... Christian Andersen. The cobbler.

Darling, it's the cobbler.

The cobbler who fixed my shoes

so beautifully yesterday.

He's written me a story for a ballet.

- I don't believe it!

- Tell the cobbler I am delighted to have it.

What was his name - Hans?

I will read it carefully.

- The Little Mermaid

- Stop it.

It is all very innocent and quite touching.

I haven't said good morning yet.

Good morning, darling.

Where have you been?

I've lost it. I can't find it any place.

Help me look, will you, Peter?

Just when I need you most,

you disappear.

I'll have to write it all over again.

- You don't have to write it again.

- Don't stand there. Start looking.

- You don't have to write it over again.

- What?

She's got it.

What did you say?

She has it, Hans. Right now.

She has?

But how? How did she get it?

I was reading it

and it blew out of my hands.

You took it?

But why? Never mind that, Peter. Go on.

It blew into the window

of the theatre, and...

That's how she got it.

A wind took it to her.

It's an omen, Peter. An omen.

She's reading it now.

Don't go over there, Hans, don't.

I must, Peter. I've got to talk to her.

I can help her.

That chair and this sofa.

Let's get 'em on the wagon.

What's going on here?

What are you doing?

The ballet's moving out.

Moving out?

Excuse me.

- Is it true the ballet's moving out?

- That's right. Their yearly tour.

Where to? How long will they be gone?

There's the school bell.

Off to school. Hurry up.

Off with you now. Tomorrow's

another day and another story.

I don't want any trouble with

the schoolmaster. Hurry, children. Hurry.

What's the matter? Are you unhappy?

Would you like me to tell you

a special story?

Come on up here.

Come on.

I'm not going to hurt you.

Go up a little faster.

Now, let me see...

There once was an ugly duckling

With feathers all stubby and brown

And the other birds, in so many words

said, "Ptt! Get out of town!

"Ptt! Get out!

"Ptt! Ptt! Get out!

Ptt! Ptt! Get out of town!"

And he went with a quack

and a waddle and a quack

In a flurry of eiderdown

Shall I tell you the rest of the story?

All right.

That poor little ugly duckling

Went wandering far and near

But at every place,

they said to his face

"Now, ptt! Get out of here

"Ptt! Get out! Ptt! Ptt! Get out!

"Ptt! Ptt! Get out of here!"

And he went with a quack

and a waddle and a quack

And a very unhappy tear

All through the wintertime,

he hid himself away

Ashamed to show his face,

afraid of what others might say

All through the winter,

in his lonely clump of weed

Till a flock of swans spied him there

and very soon agreed

"You're a very fine swan indeed!"

"A swan?

"Me a swan? Nah, go on. "

They said, "Yes, you're a swan.

Look at yourself in the lake. You'll see. "

And he looked and he saw

and he said, "I am a swan!

"Whee!"

I'm not such an ugly duckling

No feathers all stubby and brown

For, in fact, these birds,

in so many words said, "Tsk!

"The best in town!

"Tsk! The best! Tsk! Tsk! The best!

"Tsk! Tsk! The best in town!"

Not a quack, not a quack,

not a waddle or a quack

But a glide and a whistle

and a snowy white back

And a head so noble and high

Say who's an ugly duckling?

Not I!

Not I!

So, Lars, it shouldn't make any difference

if they won't play with you.

But it does. I want to play with them,

but they make fun of me because I was

sick and the doctor shaved my head.

Yes, but look at what happened

to the ugly duckling.

One day soon, you'll look in the mirror -

much sooner than you think -

and your hair will be grown out,

and you'll be just like the ugly duckling.

You'll be better than any of them,

I promise.

- Are you sure, Hans?

- Very sure.

You'd better run off to school.

You're late now.

- Bye, Hans.

- Goodbye.

Cobbler, are my shoes ready?

Yes, ma'am. I have them here.

One mark, please.

- One mark? As much as that?

- Yes, ma'am. They're practically new.

How beautiful!

What kind of shoes are they?

Ballet slippers. I made them myself.

Every inch of them.

How lovely they are!

Please, ma'am. They might soil.

You understand.

Who wears such lovely things?

A lady who dances.

Her feet twinkle like little stars.

I assure you, the slippers won't even

be noticed - she's so beautiful herself.

Thank you.

Thank you. Please come again.

Her arms were warm

as they welcomed me

Her eyes were fire-bright

And then I knew that my path must be

Through the ever haunted night

For anywhere I wander

Anywhere I roam

Till I'm in the arms of my darling again

My heart will find no home

Anywhere I wander

Anywhere I roam

Anywhere I wander

Anywhere I roam

- You're Hans the cobbler?

- Yes, sir.

- I'm pleased to know you.

- How do you do?

You've no idea what this is

all about, have you?

- No, sir.

- Well, I'm the father of the ugly duckling.

- Does that mean anything to you?

- Oh, you're Lars' father. I see.

That little story helped him

over a bad time. I'm very grateful to you.

When I made inquiries, I found

you had a lot more of these stories.

The children are full of them these days.

Do you ever write any of them?

- No, sir.

- Well, I've a little surprise for you. Come.

Give me a small sheet of paper.

Oh!

Oh!

Thank you very much.

- It's the finest present I've ever had.

- I'm delighted. Lars will be, too.

Could I say something, sir?

You wouldn't mind?

Of course not. Say anything you want to.

Well, instead of "Hans the cobbler",

could it say "Hans Christian

Andersen", like a real writer?

Certainly!

If you write some of those stories down,

just the way you tell them to the children,

I'll print them, and pay you for them.

I can hardly believe it!

- When will this be in the paper?

- Tomorrow.

It'll say "Hans Christian Andersen"

all day tomorrow.

All day?

- Well, goodbye, sir.

- Goodbye.

All day?

- Thank you, sir.

- Thank you.

"The Ugly Duckling

by Hans Christian Andersen. "

I'm Hans Christian Andersen

That fortune has smiled upon

Although I'm a duckling today,

tomorrow I'm a swan

A tale I told and it turned to gold,

as gold as a tale can be

I laugh, ha ha, but I blush a bit

for I realise while I'm reading it

That it's also reading me

"By Hans Christian Andersen"!

I am a swan!

I write myself a note each day

and I place it in my hat

The wind comes by, the hat blows high

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