1In a kingdom where music played every morning and flags flew from every tower, there lived an Emperor who loved clothes above all things. He had velvet robes in twelve colors, seven pairs of embroidered slippers, and a little gold cloth cap he wore tilted just so. Every hour, he visited his wardrobe to admire himself in the long mirror.
2One autumn morning, two strangers arrived at the palace gates. "Your Majesty," they said with deep bows, "we are the finest weavers in the world. We can weave a cloth so extraordinary, so magical, that it becomes completely invisible to anyone who is foolish or unfit for their position." The Emperor's eyes went wide. "Imagine a coat made of such cloth!" he thought. "I could discover at once who in my court was clever and who was not!" He clapped his hands and ordered them to begin immediately.
3Days passed. The Emperor sent his most trusted minister to check on the progress. The old minister peered closely at the loom. He saw nothing — nothing at all — just bare wooden frames and empty air. His heart knocked in his chest. "Am I foolish?" he thought, terrified. "Am I unfit?" He dared not say a word of the truth.
4"Oh, it is magnificent!" he reported to the Emperor. "The colors! The pattern! Extraordinary!" The Emperor sent another advisor, and then another. Each one saw nothing. Each one said nothing of the truth, and returned to report that the cloth was the most splendid thing they had ever laid eyes upon.
5The weavers pretended to cut and stitch and sew with scissors that cut only air. On the morning of the parade, they held up their empty hands.
6"Your Majesty's suit is complete!" They dressed him in nothing over his plain cream undershirt and cream shorts, and he stood before his mirror nodding gravely. Every courtier in the room clapped and called out, "The drape! The color! Marvelous! Nothing has ever suited Your Majesty so well!"
7Then, from somewhere near the fountain, a small clear voice rang out. "But he hasn't got proper clothes on at all!" A child of about seven stood at the front of the crowd — a freckled face, wide brown eyes blinking calmly, a mustard coat buttoned to the chin against the chill. There was no meanness in the voice, only simple honesty, the way a child states that the sky is blue or that rain is wet.
8A hush fell over everything. Then someone in the crowd whispered, "The child is right." Then another voice: "He really hasn't." And slowly, like a stone dropping into still water, the truth rippled out through every person standing there, until the whole crowd was murmuring the same quiet, honest thing.
9He looked, last of all, at the child by the fountain, who simply looked back.
10The Emperor squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and walked — slowly, with great dignity — all the way back to the palace.
