“Well you see my dear, sometimes people need to be taught a lesson. The maid was just telling me that it was my fault that the other kingdoms wont sell me food anymore.”
“Well, Father, it is your fault.”
Many merchants that day cried in sorrow as their gold from Midas' kingdom turned into useless junk. The people of the city soon returned and celebrated their lives without the plague of gold. And King Midas? Well no one shed a tear for his death except his little girl. Even she has long since stopped crying, though every year during the art festival she clips the most beautiful red rose she can find and leaves it at his feet.