Two weeks later, the wife said, "This cottage is too small. I want a big stone mansion with a garden and servants."
The fisherman went to the sea. The water was a little darker than before, a little rougher. He called the fish and made the wish. When he got home, the cottage had become a mansion.
But his wife was still not satisfied. "I want to be queen," she said.
The fisherman was shocked. "Wife! That is too much! The fish has been generous. We should be grateful!"
"Go to the fish," she said coldly. "I want to be queen."
The fisherman went to the sea. The water was grey now, and the waves were choppy. He called the fish, his voice trembling with embarrassment.
"My wife wants to be queen."
"Go home," said the fish. "She already is."
When the fisherman arrived home, the mansion had become a magnificent palace. His wife sat on a golden throne, wearing a diamond crown. Servants bowed before her. Soldiers guarded the gates.
The fisherman was frightened. "Wife, please. You are queen now. Let this be enough."
For a day, it was enough. For a week, it was enough. Then his wife called him to the throne room.
"Being queen is boring. I want to be emperor."
The fisherman went to the sea. The water was black. A cold wind was blowing. The fish listened and granted the wish.
It was not enough. "I want to be pope," she said.
The sea was terrifying now — huge waves crashed against the rocks, the sky was dark, and lightning flashed across the horizon. The fish listened and granted the wish.
The fisherman's wife sat on a golden throne as tall as a mountain, surrounded by candles and incense and bishops and cardinals. She was the most powerful person in the world.
For one evening.
