The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (2 page)

“H
E ASKED HER ABOUT HER GARDEN, ABOUT THE WEATHER . . . ABOUT ANYTHING
.”

Three

R
osella didn't love the prince madly, but she liked him. He was so polite. And she thought it might be pleasanter to be a princess than to be the widow Pickering's daughter and Myrtle's sister. Besides, it could be against the law to say no to a prince. So she said yes, and dropped a garnet into his hand.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't hear you.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Clink. Clink.
Two more garnets joined Harold's collection. “You must say, ‘Yes, Harold,' now that we're betrothed.”

“Yes, Harold.”

Clink.

The fairy Ethelinda was delighted that Rosella was going to be a princess. She deserves it, the fairy thought. Ethelinda was pleased with herself for having given Rosella the perfect reward.

The widow Pickering agreed to the marriage. But she insisted that Harold give her all the gems Rosella had produced before their engagement. The widow was careful not to mention Myrtle. She didn't want the prince to know that Rosella had a twin sister who would also have a jewel mine in her mouth. After all, what if he took Myrtle away too?

Prince Harold swung Rosella up on his horse. He asked her to hold an open saddlebag on her lap. Then he mounted in front of her. As they rode off, he asked her about her garden, about the weather, about fly fishing, about anything.

The widow stood at the fence and waved her handkerchief. As she turned to go back into the cottage, she saw her favorite daughter in the distance. Myrtle was loping along, swinging the bucket. The widow opened the gate and followed her daughter into the house. “Darling, speak to me.”

Myrtle sank into their only comfortable chair. “Hi, Mom. The stupid old lady wasn't—” There was a tickle in the back of her throat. What was going on? It felt like her tongue had gotten loose and was flopping around in her mouth. Could she be making jewels too? Did it happen just by going to the well? Whatever it was—diamond or pearl or emerald—it wanted to get out. Myrtle opened her mouth.

A garter snake slithered out.

The widow screamed and jumped onto their other chair. “Eeeeek! Get that thing out of here! Myrtle!” She pointed a shaking finger. “There it is! Get it! Eeeeek!”

Myrtle didn't budge. She stared at the snake coiling itself around a bedpost. How had this happened if the old lady wasn't at the well? The knight? The knight! The old lady had turned herself into a knight.

Myrtle jumped up and raced out, taking the bucket with her. “'Bye, Mom,” she called over her shoulder. “See you later.” Two mosquitoes and a dragonfly flew out of her mouth.

The fairy Ethelinda watched Myrtle scurry down the road. She patted herself on the back for having given Myrtle the perfect punishment.

Four

P
rince Harold and Rosella reached the courtyard in front of the prince's palace. He lifted Rosella down from the horse.

“I'm too madly in love to wait,” he said. “Let's announce our engagement first thing tomorrow morning, dear heart.”

“All right,” Rosella said.

Harold only got a measly seed pearl. “Princesses speak in complete sentences, darling.”

Rosella took a deep breath for courage. “I'm tired, Your High—I mean Harold. May I rest for a day first?”

But Harold didn't listen. He was too interested in the green diamond in his hand. “I've never seen one of these before, honey bun. We can have the betrothal ceremony at nine o'clock sharp. Your Royal Ladies-in-Waiting will find you something to wear.”

Harold snapped his fingers, and a Royal Lady-in-Waiting led Rosella away. They were on the castle doorstep when Harold ran after them.

“Angel, I almost forgot. What would you like served at our betrothal feast?”

Nobody had ever asked Rosella this kind of question before. She'd always had to eat scraps from her mother's and her sister's plates. Nobody had ever asked her what she liked to eat. Nobody had ever asked her opinion about anything.

She smiled happily. “Your—I mean, Harold . . . uh . . . dear, I'd like poached quail eggs and roasted chestnuts for our betrothal feast.” Six identical emeralds the color of maple leaves in May dropped from Rosella's mouth.

The Royal Lady-in-Waiting, who was at Rosella's elbow, gasped.

“Look at these!” Harold said. “They're gorgeous. So you want wild boar for dinner?” He didn't give Rosella time to say she hated wild boar. “What do you know? It's my favorite too. I'll go tell the cook.” He rushed off.

Rosella sighed.

The fairy Ethelinda, who was keeping an eye on things, sighed too.

Myrtle returned to the well, determined to give a drink to anybody who was there. But nobody was. She lowered the bucket into the well anyway.

Nobody showed up.

She had an idea. It was worth a try. She watered the plants that grew around the well. “Dear plants,” she began. “You look thirsty. Perhaps a little water would please you. It's no trouble. I don't mind, dear sweet plants.”

Whatever was in her mouth was too big to be a jewel, unless it was the biggest one in the world. And a jewel wouldn't feel slimy on her tongue. She opened her mouth. A water bug crawled out. She closed her mouth, but there was more. More slime. She opened her mouth again. Two more water bugs padded out, followed by a black snake.

Giving the plants a drink hadn't done any good. Myrtle dumped the rest of the water on a rose bush. “Drown, you stupid plant,” she muttered. A grasshopper landed on a rose.

Myrtle filled her bucket one more time. Then—without saying a single word—she scoured the village again for the rotten fairy who'd done this to her. She swore to herself that she'd pour water down the throat of any stranger she found.

But there were no strangers, so Myrtle threw the bucket into the well and headed for home.

The widow was in the garden. She had dug up the peas and the radishes and the tomato plants. Now she was pawing through the roots, hoping to find some jewels that Prince Harold had missed. When she heard the gate slam shut, she stood up. “Don't say a word if you didn't find that old lady.”

Myrtle closed her mouth with a snap. She picked up a stick and scratched in the dirt, “Where's Rosella?”

“She rode off to marry a prince. And like a fool, I let her go, because I thought I had you. You bungler, you idiot, you . . .”

That made Myrtle furious. How could she have known the fairy would turn herself into a knight in so much armor you couldn't even see her—his—face? And hadn't she searched the village twice? And hadn't she watered those useless plants? Myrtle opened her mouth to give her mother what-for.

But the widow held up her hands and jumped back three feet. “Hush! Shh! Hush, my love. Perhaps I was hasty. We've both had a bad . . .”

Her mother's pleas gave Myrtle a new idea. She picked up the stick again and wrote, “Things are looking up, Mom. It will all be better tomorrow.” She dropped the stick and started whistling—and wondering if whistling made snakes and insects too.

It didn't. Too bad, she thought.

Five

R
osella was used to sleeping on the floor, because Myrtle and the widow had always taken the bed. In the palace she got her own bed. It had a canopy and three mattresses piled on top of each other and satin sheets and ermine blankets and pillows filled with swans' feathers.

So she should have gotten a fine night's sleep—except that three Royal Guards stood at attention around her bed all night. One stood at each side of the bed, and one stood at the foot. If she talked in her sleep, they were supposed to catch the jewels and keep them safe for Prince Harold.

Rosella didn't talk in her sleep because she couldn't sleep with people watching her. By morning her throat felt scratchy. She thought she might be coming down with a cold.

Her twelve Royal Ladies-in-Waiting brought breakfast to her at seven o'clock. Scrambled eggs and wild-boar sausages. They shared the sausages while she ate the eggs. Rosella said “please” six times and “thank you” eight times. Each Royal Lady-in-Waiting got one jewel, and they fought over the remaining two.

“Nobody deserves that but me!” yelled one Royal Lady-in-Waiting.

“I work harder than any of you!” yelled another.

“I'm worth ten of each of you, so I should get everything!” shouted a third.

“You have some nerve, thinking . . .”

Rosella put her hands over her ears. She wished she could have ten minutes to herself.

Prince Harold came in. He coughed to get the attention of the Royal Ladies-in-Waiting. Nobody noticed except Rosella, who smiled at him. He'd be handsome, she thought, if he weren't so greedy.

The Royal Ladies-in-Waiting went on arguing.

“How dare you—”

“What do you mean—”

“The first person who—”

“SHUT UP!” Harold roared.

They did.

“You mustn't upset my bride.” He went to Rosella, who was eating her breakfast in bed. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Are you all right, sugar plum?”

Rosella nodded. She liked the pet names he called her. But she hoped he wouldn't make her say anything.

“Tell me so I'm sure, lovey-dove.”

The fairy Ethelinda was worried.

Myrtle, on the other hand, had a great night's sleep. When she woke up, she put paper, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink in a pouch. Then she set out for the village. She'd have a fine breakfast when she got there, and she wouldn't pay a penny for it. As for the bucket she'd thrown down the well, why, she'd have her choice of buckets.

“H
E SCOWLED RIGHT BACK
.”

Her first stop was the baker's shop. She's scowling, the baker thought, so it's Myrtle. He scowled right back.

“Give me three of your freshest muffins,” Myrtle said.

She has some nerve, the baker thought. Bossing me— What was coming out of her mouth? Ants! He grabbed his broom and swept them out of his store. He tried to sweep Myrtle out too.

“Cut that out!” Myrtle said. A horsefly flew out of her mouth. A bedbug climbed over the edge of her lip and started down her chin.

The baker swatted the fly. He kept an eye on the bedbug, so he could kill it as soon as it touched the floor.

Myrtle took the pen and paper out of her pouch. “Give me the muffins and I won't say another word,” she wrote. “I also want a fourteen-layer cake. It's for my party tomorrow, to celebrate my fourteen-year-and-six-weeks birthday. You're invited. Bring the whole family.”

The baker swallowed hard and nodded. “I'll come. We'll all come. We'll be, uh, overjoyed to come.” He wrapped up his most delicious muffins. When he handed them to Myrtle, he bowed.

The fairy Ethelinda was getting anxious. Punishments weren't supposed to work this way.

Rosella tried not to talk while she got ready for her betrothal, but her Royal Ladies-in-Waiting ignored her if she just pointed at things. They didn't yell at each other anymore, because they didn't want Prince Harold to hear, but that didn't stop them from fighting quietly.

When Rosella said, “I'll wear that gown,” two amazon stones and an opal fell to the carpet. And the twelve Royal Ladies-in-Waiting went for the jewels, hitting and shoving each other.

So Rosella took the gown out of the closet herself and laid it out on her bed. Then she stood over it, marveling. It was silk, with an embroidered bodice. Its gathered sleeves ended in lace that would tickle her fingers delightfully. And the train was lace over silk, yards and yards of it.

“It's so pretty,” she whispered. “It belongs in the sky with the moon and the stars.”

Two pearls and a starstone fell into the deep folds of the gown's skirt. They were seen by a Royal Lady-in-Waiting who had taken a break from the fight on the carpet. She pounced on the gown.

The other Royal Ladies-in-Waiting heard the silk rustle. They pounced too. In less time than it takes to sew on a button, the gown lay in tatters on the bed.

Rosella wanted to scream, but she was afraid to. Screaming might make bigger and better gems. Then she'd have to scream all the time. Besides, her throat was really starting to hurt. She cried instead.

The fairy Ethelinda was getting angry. Rewards weren't supposed to work this way.

Six

R
osella didn't mean to, but she dropped jewels on every gown in her princess wardrobe except one. And her Royal Ladies-in-Waiting ruined each of them. The one that was left was made of burlap and it was a size and a half too big. It didn't have a real train, but it did trail on the floor, because it was four inches too long.

Harold met Rosella in the palace's great hall, where the Chief Royal Councillor was going to perform the betrothal ceremony. The prince thought she looked pretty, with her brown wavy hair and her big gray eyes. But why had she picked the ugliest gown in the kingdom? It was big enough for her and a gorilla. All he said, though, was, “You look beautiful, honey bunch. Are you glad to be engaged?”