The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (25 page)

Parsley and Tansy were married the next day. King Humphrey IV conducted the ceremony, and Bombina gave away the bride. Zeke and Nelly were there, along with Parsley's younger brother, Pepper.

Eventually Randolph married Princess Alyssatissaprincissa, and Rudolph married the princess's sister, Countess Marianabanessacontessa, who was also a goatherd. Having their own separate herds of goats pleased the twins, and they came to like each other.

Bombina never turned anyone into a toad again, but she performed thousands of other magic tricks for Tansy and Parsley's children, who all inherited their mother's captivating smile.

Tansy was a wonderful king. He put his subjects first, and he rode a tall horse so they were always able to find him. His subjects loved having their own souvenirs in the Royal Museum of Quest Souvenirs, and his subjects' chickens loved the coops the Royal Army built for them.

Bombina's cook taught Parsley's favorite parsley recipes to the Royal Cook, and the Royal Cook invented a few of her own. Parsley's smile grew greener and greener, and she never ate another insect.

And they all, monarchs and subjects and goatherds and fairies, lived happily ever after.

Love to Betsy and Ben and Amy and Sean and their animal pals.

—G.C.L.

One

O
nce upon a time in the kingdom of Biddle a baker's son and a princess fell in love. This is how it came about—

Robin, the baker's son, rode to Biddle Castle in the back of the bakery cart. His older brothers, Nat and Matt, sat on the driver's bench with their father, Jake, who was a poet as well as a baker.

Robin began a joke. “What's a dwarf's—”

“Son,” Jake said,

          
“A joker is a fool,

          
Who never went to a place of learning.”

Nat said, “Jokers are dottydaftish.” He had a knack for inventing words.

Matt said, “Jokes are dumdopety.” He had a knack for inventing words too.

Robin hated being thought stupid. “Jokes aren't dumb or dopey, and I'm not dotty or daft. If you'd ever listen to a whole joke, you'd see.” If they did, they'd realize that jokers were just as smart as poets and word inventors.

Jake just shook his head. Robin was the first moron in family history. Not only did he make up jokes, he also gave things away. Why only a week ago, on the lad's eleventh birthday to be exact, Robin had given a roll to a beggar. For free!

Generosity was against family policy. Jake had told his sons repeatedly never to give anyone something for nothing. He had learned this from his own father, a genius who could make up three poems at once.

The bakery cart rumbled across the Biddle Castle drawbridge. At the door to the Royal Kitchen, Jake reined in their nag, Horsteed, who had been named by Nat.

When all the bread had been carried into the kitchen, Jake began to chat with the Royal Chief Cook. As Jake often said,

          
“A nice customer chat

          
Puts a coin in your bonnet.”

Nat chatted with the Royal First Assistant Cook, and Matt chatted with the Royal Second Assistant Cook.

Robin began to tell his dwarf joke to the Royal Third Assistant Cook, but the Royal Third Assistant Cook interrupted with his recipe for pickled goose feet with jellied turnips.

Robin disliked jellied anything, so after he'd heard the recipe three times, he said, “How interesting. Please excuse me.” He slipped out the Royal Kitchen Door and into the Royal Garden, where commoners weren't allowed.

But he didn't know that.

Two

D
ame Cloris, the Royal Governess, sat primly upright on a bench in a small meadow in the garden. Her lace cap had slipped over her face, and it fluttered as she breathed. She was fast asleep.

Princess Lark sat on the grass nearby, her favorite ball a few feet away. She wished she had someone to play with.

Yesterday had been her eleventh birthday, and her birthday party had been awful, just like every other party she'd ever had. The guests had been children of the castle nobility, and the party had begun with a game of hide-and-seek. Lark had taken the first turn as It. While she counted, she wished with all her might that this time her guests would really play with her.

But when she opened her eyes, she saw that no one had hidden. Oh, they were pretending to hide. Aldrich, the Earl of Pildenue's son, was standing next to a tree, with one foot concealed behind it. And his sister, Cornelia, had stationed herself behind a bush that only came up to her waist.

The children wouldn't hide because they were afraid Lark would fail to find them. And not one of them dared to let a princess fail at anything.

She had told them she wouldn't mind. She had also said she wouldn't mind being It forever. But it didn't matter what she said.

The next activity, baseball, was even worse. When Lark was at bat, if she hit the ball at all—a yard, a foot, half an inch—no one tried to catch it. They thought it would be disrespectful to make a princess out, so Lark had to dash around the bases for a home run she hadn't earned.

When the other team was at bat, they tried not to hit the ball, because it would never do for their team to beat Lark's.

Lark declared the game over after one inning and declared the party over too. She ate her birthday cake alone—the single bite she was able to get down before she ran to her room, sobbing.

And now here she was, in the garden with her ball and a sleeping governess. She watched idly as Robin approached. She noticed that his jerkin was plain brown, without even the tiniest jewel. How unusual. And there was a hole in his breeches.

She sat up straight. His feet were bare. He was a commoner!

Lark had never spoken to a commoner. Maybe he'd be different.

Robin had no idea who the old lady and the lass were. He only knew the lass looked sad. Maybe a joke would cheer her up, if she'd let him tell it.

“Hello,” he said. “What's a dwarf's . . .” She wasn't interrupting. He began to feel nervous. “. . . favorite food?”

She smiled up at him. He hadn't bowed, which was wonderful. But she had no idea what the answer was. The king of the dwarfs had visited Biddle last year, but she couldn't remember what he'd eaten. “Potatoes?”

Robin's heart started to pound. She was going to listen to the punch line! “No. Strawberry shortcake.” He waited.

“Why straw—” Then she knew. She started laughing. A dwarf! Strawberry
short
cake!

Robin laughed too, for sheer delight. She liked the joke! He sat down next to her and tried another one. “Which rank of nobility is best at math?”

Was this another joke? “The earl?”

“No. He's earl-y and catches the worm.”

She pictured Aldrich's father grubbing for worms. That was so funny.

Robin thought she had the best laugh, gurgly and tinkly. “It's the count.”

Numbers! A count! She laughed harder.

Robin thought, She has a superb sense of humor.

Dame Cloris, the governess, snored, a long rattle followed by two snorts. Robin and Lark giggled.

“Why is a king like a yardstick?”

Lark tried to guess. Her father didn't look anything like a yardstick, not with his bad posture. She gave up and shrugged.

“They're both rulers.”

She laughed. Rulers! The king would love it. “I can't wait to tell Father.”

Robin frowned. “You're lucky. My father hates jokes. Is your father a Royal Servant?”

He didn't know? Oh, no! As soon as she told him, he'd turn stiff and uncomfortable, just like everybody else. She thought of lying, but she didn't like to lie, and he was too nice to lie to anyway. “No. He's the king.”

He blinked. “Then you're—”

She nodded. “I'm Princess Lark.”

Three

R
obin jumped up and bowed. A princess liked his jokes! Bowing wasn't enough. He took her hand and pumped it up and down.

Lark was delighted. Most people were afraid to touch her. “What's your name?”

“Robin.”

“We both have bird names!” It was amazing.

“I wouldn't like to be named Spoonbill.” He grinned. “Or Swallow. Good morning, Master Swallow. How did your breakfast go down?”

“Or my name could be Vulture. Good morning, Princess Vulture. I hate to think what you had for breakfast.” She stood up. “Why doesn't your father like your jokes?”

“I don't know why.”

He looks sad, Lark thought. “They're terrific jokes. How do you think of them?”

“I don't know.” He blushed. “I just do.”

“All the time?”

“Except when I'm unhappy or angry. Then I can't make up any. I can't even remember my old ones.” He changed the subject. He didn't like to think about being jokeless. “Why is a bakery—”

Dame Cloris moaned in her sleep.

“Who's she?”

“She's Dame Cloris, my governess.” Lark giggled. “She's a deep sleeper. Why is a bakery what?”

“Oh. Why is a bakery like a garden?”

Lark tried to figure it out. One was outdoors and one was indoors. That wasn't it. She stopped trying. It was more fun to let him surprise her. “I give up.”

“They're both flowery.” Or floury, he thought.

She chuckled. “You're clever.”

That wasn't what his father and brothers thought. “My father's a baker. You should visit our bakery. It's in Snettering-on-Snoakes. You could come tomorrow.” If she came, he wouldn't have to wait a week to see her again. “Or the next day.” And maybe she'd make Jake and Nat and Matt listen to a joke.

“I'd like to come.”

“When you do, could you order me to tell you a joke, a whole one, all the way through?”

She nodded. Nobody had ever asked for her help before. They just wanted to do things for her.

Robin could hardly wait. Everything would change when his family heard a whole joke. He loved Lark!

He was so happy, he had to do something. He picked up her ball and gave it to her. “Want to play catch?”

Did she! She threw him the ball. He threw it back. He threw hard. He didn't seem to care if she failed to catch it. This was what she'd always wanted. This was heavenly.

She was terrible at catch, since she'd never had a chance to practice. But she was happy to chase the ball and throw it back as well as she could.

Sometimes when she missed the ball, it wasn't her fault, though. He kept telling jokes and timing them so that she was laughing when he threw the ball. He was playing tricks to
make
her miss. She loved him!

The ball bounced off her arm. She and Robin ran after it, but—

Oh no! It hit Dame Cloris's skirts, right below the knee.

Dame Cloris yelped and opened her eyes. A commoner! With Princess Lark! She screamed, and then she fainted.

Lark and Robin rushed to her. Two Royal Garden Guards came on the run. One waved smelling salts under Dame Cloris's nose. The other picked Robin up by his collar and carried him away.

Robin yelled, “Don't forget! Come to the bakery.”

“I'll be there.”

The guard dumped Robin at the Royal Kitchen Door. “Stay out of the garden,” he growled, and marched off. Robin slipped into the kitchen, where Jake and Nat and Matt were ending their customer chats.

On the way back to Snettering-on-Snoakes Robin announced, “While you were talking, I played catch with Princess Lark, and—”

“A
COMMONER
! W
ITH
P
RINCESS
L
ARK
!”

“You falsfibbulator!” Nat started laughing. “That's the sillfooliest thing I ever heard!”

Matt laughed too. “It's nutcrazical!”

Jake stopped the cart. “Matt! Natt! I mean Nat! Matt! Don't make fun of Robin just because he isn't as brilliant as we are. He only
wishes
he could meet a princess and play—”