In a land where there were only forests and ponds and the sky was always grey there was a duckling who was left alone to sit and wallow.

"Love me, love me, I'm not so ugly." he cried as he swam around the hand forsaken pond.

The trees stared at him in dismay and quoted laughingly at his pouts for longing to see him for his true self. Did the birds above croak as well and the animals below growl and holler, but did the duckling continue his tears to be loved, to be loved.

There had of course been many princesses that have crossed his path but did they dare look at and stay a while but stare and say of what better ducks were to be found along their travels. Did he cry to be loved, to be loved.

In his battles of tears to be loved a princess had heard his cries and threw her crimson doll at him to shutter his bellows, did the dolls dress fall over his face and he seemed to silence. Almost suffocating the water sung him to sleep.

"You wish to be loved?" questioned the Crimson Doll that lay motionless on the pond floor.
"Yes. I wish to be loved, loved so dearly not because I am a bird." his bright eyes couldn't have spoken any louder.
"But you are a pretty bird, why is it you want to be loved otherwise?" the doll spoke in a tone so high that it echoed in the ducklings head.
"Well... princesses that have passed never seem to like me and I don't want to be a swan either! Make me be loved! I want to be loved!" the duckling sang to its highest screeching caws to be loved.
"Very well bird. You will be loved, but be careful... Love is a treacherous thing." The doll spoke and disappeared into the muck.

The duckling shut his eyes as he felt the water shake drastically but when he had opened his eyes nothing had changed. He was still a duck and the water was still water and the sky was still grey and the trees still laughed and thus he began to cry.

"I want a bird to love me..." sighed a peasant that walked through the forest of laughing trees.
"I want a princess." sighed the duckling.
"If only I could be loved..." they both cried aloud.
And did the trees wail in laughter, did the waters rage in hiccups and the bird could no longer hold its place. It flew, oh did it fly. It flew sweetly into the arms of the peasant, and suddenly life seemed all too complete. The bird had been in a cage as the peasant did her daily chores, she did not love the bird as she should have and thus he had out grown his cage. Not as a duck of course, but as a beautiful prince.

And thus he still cried in his golden cage. "Love me, love me."