Panchita was a beautiful girl who lived in a castle with her parents, the king and queen of the city called Rising Sun. She was fifteen years old, with hair as golden as ripe wheat and blue eyes so clear they seemed like a little piece of sky.
She went to a school near the castle, but nobody there knew where she lived, because Panchita was a cheerful, humble and simple little person who never boasted about anything. Her parents, on the other hand, were a bit selfish and had rather hard hearts. Panchita was just the opposite: generous and caring, and she never lacked the means to share with her friends at school, whether it was a snack, a coloured pencil or a kind word.
Christmas was coming very soon. For Panchita it was a magical time that meant pure happiness: the lights that came on in the windows, the smell of Christmas bread drifting out of the kitchens, the carols the children sang in the streets.
When she came home from school, she talked with her parents. She told them she wanted to share a dinner with all the families of her city, and that she wished every child could have a party they would never forget. Her parents were very surprised by the request. They always gave their daughter whatever she asked for, but this time, out of selfishness, they said no.
“We are not here to share food with other children or other families,” her father said, without looking up from his newspaper.
That night Panchita went to bed very sad, because she would not be able to bring happiness to those children. From her bed she looked at the stars through the window and thought of her classmates, of the ones who would have no presents and the ones who would have very little for dinner on Christmas Eve.
When she woke the next day, she got up as usual, had breakfast with her parents and then went to school. All day long, during her breaks, she kept thinking about how she could prepare a lovely afternoon tea for her town and give toys to all the children who needed them most.
That evening, back at the castle, she was sitting on the balcony looking towards the horizon, where the setting sun was tinting the hills pink. Suddenly, in the middle of the garden, she saw a little princess dressed in white, holding a very shiny wand. Seeing the girl so worried, the little princess beckoned her to come down.
Panchita went down at once. The little princess greeted her warmly:
“Hello, Panchita. I know you are very worried because you wish to share a dinner with all the families and children of the city, and you want to give presents to all the children. Isn’t that so? I also know your parents did not like the idea.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Panchita answered very sadly, “and I don’t know what to do.”
Then the little princess, who was really a fairy and lived in a palace hidden in a nearby forest, said to her:
“I am your fairy godmother, and I know I will be able to make your dream come true. So don’t be sad; I will see how we can do it. But it must be a secret between the two of us. You mustn’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” Panchita promised happily, and she thanked her.
Just then her mother came out into the garden looking for her. From afar she had seen her talking to herself and waving her arms, so she came closer, very curious.
“Who are you talking to, my lovely girl?”
Panchita was quiet for a moment, and then she said:
“To nobody, Mummy.”
“Then why were you lifting your hands?”
“Oh, I was rehearsing a poem they taught us at school.”
“Oh, I see, that’s fine,” said her mother. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold and you might fall ill.”
“Coming, Mummy, right away.”
Panchita turned around and, without her mother noticing, waved goodbye to her fairy godmother. The little princess winked at her and vanished among the rose bushes, leaving in the air a sparkle like stardust.
When they went inside, the girl asked her mother again:
“Will you let me invite all the children of the city, with their parents, for Christmas?”
“What an idea!” she replied. “Those children are different from us. You cannot mix with them.”
“But Mummy, how are we different, if we are all the same? Do you think that because they have less than we do, we are different from them?”
Her mother did not know what to answer, and the conversation was left hanging in the air.
Then it happened that one morning Panchita woke up very ill. Her cheeks were pale and she could hardly get up. Her parents did not know what could be wrong with their daughter, so they took her to the best hospital in the city, where she was admitted because her condition was serious. The days went by and she did not get better. The doctors no longer knew what to do, until, running tests on her, they discovered that the only way she could recover was through a blood transfusion.
Her parents began searching among their family for someone with the same blood as Panchita, but nobody had it. For the first time, the king and queen felt that all their gold was of no use to them. They spent the nights beside their daughter’s bed, holding her hand, not knowing who else to ask for help.
The news of the girl’s illness spread throughout the whole city. Everyone knew what the little girl had wanted to do for them at Christmas, and they could see the day was drawing near. So they spread the word and agreed: they would go to the hospital to donate their blood, if only the girl would get better.
For a whole week there were queues and more queues at the hospital entrance. Bakers came with flour on their aprons, fishermen with weathered hands, teachers, grandfathers with walking sticks and mothers with their babies in their arms. But none of them had the blood the girl needed. Her parents were desperate; the only solution left was to take Panchita to another country to be cured.
But, oh, what a surprise! One very humble family had still not come to donate. They were among the last to arrive. They had a son the same age as the girl, and he donated his blood. And what a surprise it was! It was exactly the blood Panchita needed, and she began to get better.
A few days passed and she was sent home. Her parents were beside themselves with joy. When they got home they hugged her again and again, saying:
“We love you so much. I don’t know what we would have done if you weren’t with us.”
The girl, very happy, hugged them and said:
“Thank you, Daddy and Mummy, for letting the people of the city help me.”
“Perhaps you have a fairy godmother who helped you,” they said.
The girl only smiled.
Looking out of the window at the garden, she had a great surprise: her fairy godmother was there, standing beside the boy who had saved her.
“Mummy, look, there’s a boy outside,” said Panchita.
Her parents went out into the garden with her. The boy, whose name was Sebastián, greeted them very humbly and told them that he was the one who had given some of his blood so that Panchita could be well. Her parents, deeply moved, thanked him and invited him in for a little cup of tea with them.
The girl was amazed at the change in her parents, and she wondered what could have happened to make them act this way. She was even more amazed when they told her:
“Darling, do you know what? Christmas is very near, and we are going to grant your wishes. We are going to have a big party, we will give a great dinner, and we will not leave a single child without a present.”
What had happened was that her parents had seen how the people of their town showed them that, for them, there was no difference between rich and poor; that all of them, in spite of everything, knew how to give without expecting anything in return.
It also happened that Panchita became great friends with the boy who had saved her. Every day they spent some time together: they went for walks to a nearby river, enjoyed the fresh air and the sun, and played at skipping flat stones to watch them bounce across the water. Sometimes the girl helped Sebastián with a subject he found hard, and he taught her the names of the birds that sang on the riverbank.
At last Christmas Day arrived, and Panchita could hardly wait for the party to begin. During the day she got ready and chose her most elegant dress. The garden, which was very large, had been filled with long tables with white tablecloths, lanterns hanging from the trees and an enormous pine decorated with stars. When it was time for the celebration the three of them went out very happily, and people had already begun to arrive.
While she was sitting at one of the tables with her parents, Panchita saw her fairy godmother in a corner of the garden, beckoning to her.
“I’ll be right back,” she told her parents.
She went over to her and greeted her very happily:
“Hello, godmother! How are you?”
“I am so glad, my child, that you are well again and that your parents have changed their ways,” the fairy replied.
What Panchita did not know was that the little princess had appeared before her parents while she was in hospital. She had talked with them, helping them see that everyone was equal, that there should be no difference between them and the people of their city. And it was she who had encouraged everyone to go and give blood for their daughter.
Panchita had nothing but words of thanks for her fairy godmother. The fairy, very proud of the girl, said to her:
“It is I who thank you, for your good heart. If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened.”
Then Panchita took her by the arm and invited her to sit with her parents, but the little princess said goodbye:
“Thank you, my sweet child, but I must go to another city to visit other children who are alone, so that they do not have a sad Christmas.”
And with a flash of her wand she rose above the lanterns until she was lost among the stars.
The girl, with tears in her eyes, went back to her parents.
“What happened, my darling?” they asked.
“I’m very moved,” she answered, “and I thank you for granting my wish to make all the people of our town happy.”
Her parents, full of joy, hugged her and said:
“We will always grant your wishes.”
When the party was over, every family went home happy, the children hugging their presents. And Panchita was able to go to bed very happy, and she fell asleep with a smile from ear to ear.
And this tale is over; tomorrow I’ll tell you another.
This story teaches us not to set ourselves apart from one another, for we were all made equal.