Meanwhile the cradle continued to float peacefully along the canal till, on the outskirts of the royal gardens, it was suddenly perceived by the intendant, one of the highest and most respected officials in the kingdom.

“Go,” he said to a gardener who was working near, “and get that cradle out for me.”

The gardener did as he was bid, and soon placed the cradle in the hands of the intendant.

The official was much astonished to see that the cradle, which he had supposed to be empty, contained a baby, which, young though it was, already gave promise of great beauty.  Having no children himself, although he had been married some years, it at once occurred to him that here was a child which he could take and bring up as his own.  And, bidding the man pick up the cradle and follow him, he turned towards home.

“My wife,” he exclaimed as he entered the room, “heaven has denied us any children, but here is one that has been sent in their place.  Send for a nurse, and I will do what is needful publicly to recognise it as my son.”

The wife accepted the baby with joy, and though the intendant saw quite well that it must have come from the royal palace, he did not think it was his business to inquire further into the mystery.

The following year another prince was born and sent adrift, but happily for the baby, the intendant of the gardens again was walking by the canal, and carried it home as before.

The Sultan, naturally enough, was still more furious the second time than the first, but when the same curious accident was repeated in the third year he could control himself no longer, and, to the great joy of the jealous sisters, commanded that the Sultana should be executed.  But the poor lady was so much beloved at Court that not even the dread of sharing her fate could prevent the grand-vizir and the courtiers from throwing themselves at the Sultan’s feet and imploring him not to inflict so cruel a punishment for what, after all, was not her fault.

“Let her live,” entreated the grand-vizir, “and banish her from your presence for the rest of her days.  That in itself will be punishment enough.”

His first passion spent, the Sultan had regained his self-command.  “Let her live then,” he said, “since you have it so much at heart.  But if I grant her life it shall only be on one condition, which shall make her daily pray for death.  Let a box be built for her at the door of the principal mosque, and let the window of the box be always open.  There she shall sit, in the coarsest clothes, and every Mussulman who enters the mosque shall spit in her face in passing.  Anyone that refuses to obey shall be exposed to the same punishment himself.  You, vizir, will see that my orders are carried out.”

The grand-vizir saw that it was useless to say more, and, full of triumph, the sisters watched the building of the box, and then listened to the jeers of the people at the helpless Sultana sitting inside.  But the poor lady bore herself with so much dignity and meekness that it was not long before she had won the sympathy of those that were best among the crowd.