The Emperor’s New Clothes
A Fashion-Obsessed Emperor
Long ago, in a grand and prosperous kingdom, there lived an emperor who cared about just one thing—his clothes. Not his people. Not his army. Not even the theatre or the arts. What he loved most was fashion.
This emperor owned more outfits than anyone else in the land. He had clothes for every hour of the day. While most kings were said to be “in council,” people would say of this ruler, “The emperor is in his dressing room.”
His palace buzzed with tailors, dressmakers, and fabric merchants. He spent all his gold on silk, lace, velvet, and fine embroidery. The emperor’s obsession was no secret—his subjects spoke of little else.
Two Strangers
One day, two strangers arrived in the capital. They called themselves weavers and claimed to be able to create the most beautiful fabric ever seen.
But that wasn’t all.
They said their cloth had magical properties: it would be invisible to anyone who was foolish or unfit for their job.
As soon as word reached the emperor, he was delighted. “If I wear clothes made of this special cloth,” he thought, “I’ll be able to tell who in my court is clever and capable—and who is not. What a wonderful idea!”
So the emperor ordered a large sum of gold to be paid to the weavers and told them to begin at once.
The Work Begins—Sort Of
The two men were given a grand room in the palace. They set up looms and pretended to work. Day after day, they moved their hands and clicked their looms, but there was nothing actually being woven. No thread. No fabric. Nothing at all.
Still, they demanded the finest silk and the purest gold thread. These, they said, were needed to make the magical cloth. But instead of weaving, they stuffed all the valuable materials into their bags and continued to pretend.
Everyone in the city was curious. Everyone had heard about the enchanted fabric. And everyone secretly worried whether they would be able to see the cloth.
The Emperor Sends His Minister
The emperor was eager to see the progress, but he hesitated. What if he couldn’t see the cloth? That would mean he was either foolish or unworthy of his throne. Best to be cautious, he thought—so he sent his most loyal minister to check on the weavers.
The minister was wise and respected. Surely he could judge whether the cloth was as marvellous as claimed.
When the minister arrived, he saw the weavers hard at work. But there was nothing on the looms.His eyes widened. “I can’t see anything!” he thought. “Does that mean I’m a fool? That I don’t deserve my position? I mustn’t let anyone know.”
So he lied.
The weavers smiled and gestured to the empty looms.
“Isn’t the pattern stunning?” one said.
“The colours are so vibrant,” said the other. “Don’t you agree?”
The poor minister squinted and nodded. “Oh yes, it’s absolutely beautiful. Such craftsmanship!”
He listened carefully as they described the “colours” and “design,” memorising every detail so he could report back to the emperor without suspicion.
Another Visit, Another Lie
The emperor was pleased with the minister’s report, but he wanted to be sure. So he sent another official—a trusted advisor known for his intelligence and honesty.
But just like the minister, the advisor saw nothing on the loom. He too feared being labelled a fool or unfit for his post.
So he lied.
“Amazing!” he said. “So light, so elegant. A true masterpiece.”
The Lie Spreads
Soon, news of the emperor’s magical clothes spread through the entire city. Everyone talked about the fabric—its shine, its elegance, its enchantment.
No one admitted they couldn’t see it.
Everyone lied.
The Emperor Sees for Himself
Eventually, the emperor decided it was time to view the clothes himself. He brought with him his two trusted officials and a group of courtiers.
The weavers bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, behold your new garments!”
They pointed to the empty looms, describing every imagined detail.
The emperor blinked. He saw nothing.
“Am I truly unfit to rule?” he thought. “Is that what this means?” Fear gripped his heart.
But he couldn’t admit he didn’t see anything. He straightened his back, forced a smile—and lied.
“Exquisite. The colours are delightful. The pattern is simply perfect.”
The courtiers all nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! Quite splendid!”
Everyone was determined not to be the first to admit the truth.
The emperor turned to the weavers. “I shall wear this outfit in the grand parade,” he declared. “Let it be finished in time.”
Final Preparations
The night before the parade, the two weavers lit candles and pretended to work through the night. They moved their scissors through the air, cutting imaginary fabric. They stitched invisible thread and held up garments that weren’t there.
In the morning, they announced, “The clothes are ready.”
The emperor arrived with his courtiers.
The weavers helped him “dress,” pretending to fasten buttons and smooth down fabric.
“It’s as light as air,” they said. “You’ll feel as if you’re wearing nothing at all.”
“How elegant!” said the courtiers. “How regal!”
“Would Your Majesty like to see yourself in the mirror?”
The emperor turned slowly and looked. Nothing.
But he nodded and smiled. “Very fine. Extremely well-made.”
The royal procession was ready to begin.
The Parade Begins
Outside, the streets were lined with people. Flags fluttered. Drums beat. Trumpets sounded.
The emperor stepped out under a golden canopy. Everyone cheered and clapped.They had all heard that only the wise could see the clothes. So no one wanted to admit they saw nothing.
So they lied.
“Such beautiful fabric!” someone shouted.
“The embroidery is flawless!” cried another.
People strained to admire what wasn’t there, terrified that others might discover they were fools.
The emperor marched proudly through the streets, head held high. Behind him, chamberlains held up his “train,” their hands grasping empty air.
A Child Tells the Truth
Suddenly, a small voice broke the silence.
“But he’s not wearing any clothes!” said a child.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
“Hush!” said the mother. “Don’t say such things!”
But others began whispering. “The child is right! He’s got nothing on!”
Louder and louder, the truth spread.
“The emperor has no clothes!”
The emperor heard it.
He blushed. He knew deep down that the crowd was right—and the tailors had tricked him out of a fortune.
But he couldn’t admit it. He had come too far.
“I must finish the parade,” he thought. “There’s no turning back now.”
So he stood taller than before and walked on proudly as his chamberlains held up the invisible train of his invisible clothes.
The Lesson
Don’t be afraid to speak the truth, even when everyone else stays silent.And never be too proud to admit when you’ve been fooled.
