Frogged (16 page)

Touching his lips was just about as much fun as kissing Harry had been. Once again she felt alternately fizzy and dizzy and topsy-turvy.

But after all of that, she also felt she had knees—who could have guessed one could be so nostalgic about having knees?—human knees that were pressing into the rock as she leaned over the frog, with Prince Malcolm's sure and steady hands at her waist, holding her from slipping.
Oooh, this is nice,
Imogene thought—a thought that covered a whole lot of things.

Princess Imogene Eustacia Wellington, who had come to suspect she was destined to spend the rest of her life as a frog, was once again human.

“Thank you,” she said. To Malcolm, who continued to hold her, for her human knees were wobbly. To her mother, who had understood her and quickly moved to do what was needed. To Luella, who had supplied the answer (even if she hadn't known it
was
the answer). To the townspeople, who were now cheering for her. To the old witch, in case she was listening. To the frog with whom she'd just exchanged a kiss.

The frog with whom she'd just exchanged a kiss hopped off the rock and back into the pond. Imogene hoped that, having been magically kissed into being twice the frog he'd been before, he'd be able to avoid getting eaten and would find the lady frog of his dreams.

While the crowd continued to cheer, the prince gave Imogene a kiss. “Sorry,” he said, this time not at all sincerely, “I couldn't help myself.” And Imogene liked it better than all of her previous kisses combined.

Her mother, between weeping and touching Imogene's hair so delicately and gingerly it almost seemed as though she was afraid Imogene would break, asked someone to please (
please
—her mother actually said
please!
) run ahead and ring the church bells to let the other search parties—especially the ones where her husband and her son were—know the good news as soon as possible. Only then did she hold Imogene out at arm's length and say, shaking her head, “Imogene, your dress.”

Imogene glanced down at the dress she'd been wearing for the last two weeks—which gave every single appearance of having been worn for the last two weeks—and she took hold of her mother's arms and responded, “Yes, but, Mother,
your
dress.”

For a moment, her mother looked shocked. But then she laughed.

And then they all headed up the hill toward the castle, with every one of the townsfolk invited to share in the birthday celebration turned into a
Hurray, we found the princess!
celebration.

Harry did have the good sense to slip away without joining them.

And the witch, of course, had never shown up.

Imogene heard Luella's father invite Ned to sit with them, apparently not having noticed that Ned was telling Luella all about how he was thinking of switching from plays to puppet shows, since puppets were less trouble than actors, and that oh by the way did she know that society had no constraints against female puppeteers?

Imogene watched Ned and Luella walk up the path arm in arm and thought,
Why not? Maybe—maybe I'm not such a bad princess, after all.
She went ahead and took hold of Malcolm's arm. “You,” she told him with newfound boldness, “are a good person. Maybe a little reckless. But you have a good heart. I'm glad you're here.”

“Thank you,” he said. Then he smiled at her and added, “It helps to know what's expected in various situations. I have to admit I learned everything I know from this very helpful book called
The Art of Being a Prince
.”

Which would have left Imogene speechless except that a princess is never at a loss for words. So she said, “That's very interesting.”

And then Princess Imogene Eustacia Wellington twined her arm around Prince Malcolm's, and together they walked back to the castle.

(No argument there)

 

 

And then they all lived happily ever after.

V
IVIAN
V
ANDE
V
ELDE
has written many highly acclaimed books for teen and middle grade readers, including
Three Good Deeds, Heir Apparent, Deadly Pink,
and the Edgar Award–winning
Never Trust a Dead Man.
She lives in Rochester, New York. Visit her website at
www.vivianvandevelde.com
.