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Once upon a time there lived a dozen princesses whose bosoms had started to sag. The king and queen tried not to notice, the ladies-in-waiting tried not to comment, and the courtiers tried to avert their eyes. But the problem could no longer be denied: The royal busts lacked proper support. New brassieres were brought in, but by morning’s light their elasticity had vanished. Soon the daily shipments of unmentionables were taxing the king’s coffers.
The king quizzed the princesses closely, but they insisted that they spent their nights asleep in their beds. So the king offered a reward. Any enterprising young man who could solve the mystery could marry a princess of his choosing. Hopeful gallants flocked to the castle so quickly they nearly had breast-stroke.
The princesses outwitted these hopefuls one by one. Finally an enterprising young knave turned the tables. When the princesses offered him an evening elixir, he only pretended to drink it, rightly suspecting it was a sleeping potion. By feigning sleep, he was able to discover that, at the stroke of midnight, the twelve princesses filed through an enchanted wardrobe, crept along a dirt path through the woods, and rowed to an underground cavern, where a dozen princes awaited them. The sisters then proceeded to spend the night jitterbugging so vigorously that their bras plumb wore out. The next morning the young man revealed the princesses’ secret and claimed his bride.
They had lied, those full-figured lasses, and the king realized that only a dozen Cross Your Heart bras could save his kingdom. The lingerie arrived, the imperial bosoms drooped no more, and the princesses never again uttered an untruth.
