I’ve heard more than one confession in my day. The king sends people to me, and I provide a safe place where they can unburden their hearts. He knew that the little goose-girl was keeping something under her hat, and he called her aside. He wanted her to tell him the real story. She burst into tears and said, ‘That I cannot tell you or any man, or I will lose my life.’
“Well, if you can’t tell it to me, then tell it to the iron stove.” She came and sat inside of me, and soon her whole story spilled out. The king he leaned against me and heard everything that came up through my chimney pipe. When the girl stepped out into the air, the king ordered that she be dressed in royal clothes. Then he called his son and told him that he had been duped by a false bride.
The truth would come out later on that day, on a feast that the king held for the whole court.
It’s too bad I didn’t get to be there, but then again, I hear more than my share.