There was once a girl whose parents died when she was a child. Her godmother, a kind old woman who lived alone at the end of the village and supported herself by spinning, weaving, and sewing, took the orphan in. She raised the girl, taught her to work, and instilled in her all that is good.
When the girl was fifteen, the old woman fell ill. Calling the girl to her bedside, she said, "Dear daughter, my end is near. I leave you this little house for shelter and my spindle, shuttle, and needle to earn your bread." She laid her hands on the girl's head, blessed her, and said, "Keep the love of God in your heart, and all will be well." With that, she closed her eyes and passed away. The maiden followed the coffin, weeping, and paid her last respects.
Now living alone, the maiden was industrious. She spun, wove, and sewed. A blessing seemed upon her work; the flax multiplied, and she always found buyers who paid well for her cloth, carpets, and shirts. She lacked for nothing and even had enough to share.
Around this time, the King's son traveled the land seeking a bride. He declared, "She shall be my wife who is the poorest, and at the same time the richest." Arriving at the maiden's village, he asked who was the richest and poorest girl. They named the richest first; the poorest, they said, was the girl in the small house at the village's end.
The rich girl sat splendidly before her door. When the prince approached, she rose, curtseyed low. He looked at her, said nothing, and rode on. At the poor girl's house, she was not at the door but inside her little room. The prince halted his horse and saw through the sunlit window the girl busily spinning at her wheel. She looked up, blushed deeply, lowered her eyes, and continued spinning. She spun until the prince rode away. Then she went to the window, opened it, saying, "It is so warm in here!" yet watched him until his hat's white feathers vanished from sight.
Returning to her spinning, a rhyme her godmother used to say came to mind, and she sang softly:
"Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste thee away,
And here to my house bring the wooer, I pray."
Instantly, the spindle sprang from her hand and out the door. To her astonishment, it danced merrily into the open country, trailing a shining golden thread, and soon vanished. Having no spindle, the girl took up her shuttle, sat at her loom, and began to weave.
The spindle danced on until, just as the thread ended, it reached the prince. "What do I see?" he cried. "The spindle shows me the way!" He turned his horse and rode back, following the golden thread.
Meanwhile, the girl sat weaving and sang:
"Shuttle, my shuttle, weave well this day,
And guide the wooer to me, I pray."
Immediately, the shuttle sprang from her hand and out the door. Before the threshold, it began to weave a carpet more beautiful than any ever seen. Lilies and roses bloomed on its sides; on a golden center, green branches ascended, under which hares and rabbits bounded, and stags and deer peered. Brightly colored birds sat in the branches—lacking only song. The shuttle leapt hither and thither, as if everything grew of its own accord.
With the shuttle gone, the girl sat to sew. Holding her needle, she sang:
"Needle, my needle, sharp-pointed and fine,
Prepare for a wooer this house of mine."
The needle leapt from her fingers and flew about the room like lightning. Invisible spirits seemed to work: tables and benches were covered with green cloth, chairs with velvet, and windows hung with silken curtains—all in an instant.
Just as the needle made its last stitch, the maiden saw through the window the prince, led by the spindle's golden thread. He dismounted, stepped over the magnificent carpet, and entered. There stood the maiden in her poor garments, yet she shone from within like a rose among leaves.
"You are the poorest and also the richest," he said to her. "Come with me; you shall be my bride." She did not speak but gave him her hand. He kissed her, led her forth, lifted her onto his horse, and took her to the royal castle, where their wedding was celebrated with great joy. The spindle, shuttle, and needle were preserved in the treasure chamber and held in great honor.