Once upon a time, many years ago in Copenhagen, in Denmark, a wealthy merchant had a son called Erik. Erik was a good-looking lad, intelligent too, but very lazy. Instead of studying or doing some work, he liked to spend his days roaming about, amusing himself with his friends and squandering his father's money on unnecessary luxuries. When the merchant died, he left all his money to Erik, who frittered it away in a matter of months.

The only thing left was an empty magic trunk. The minute anyone stepped inside, it rose into the air. One day, Erik, who had no intention of working for a living, decided to face the unknown and seek his fortune. So he stepped into the trunk and, for days on end, flew across the seas and over woodlands and deserts. At last, he found himself above a city in the East and ordered the trunk to land on the terrace of a wonderful palace. Erik stepped out of the trunk and there in front of him stood a girl, staring at him in amazement.

"I'm Tamara, the Sultan's daughter," she said. "Who are you?" Quick to turn the situation to his own advantage, Erik replied:

"I'm the god of your people, come to ask your hand in marriage." Fascinated by the handsome stranger and certain that he really was a god, she happily said 'yes' and called her family. The Sultan welcomed the youth with great honours and immediately started to make arranaements for the wedding.

The day before the ceremony, Erik stuffed the trunk full of jewels, golden candle sticks and fine damasks and flew away from the palace towards Copenhagen. However, weighed down by its valuable load, the trunk fell into the sea off the Danish coast. Erik managed to swim ashore and return to Copenhagen, where he sang sad songs at street corners for a living. In the East, on the terrace of a magnificent palace, a young girl sadly glanced at the sky from time to time, hoping that the god who had suddenly disappeared, would come back again.