The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (4 page)

“I am the fairy Ethelinda,” she said, lowering her voice to a roar.

Harold grinned. “Pretty good guessing on my part, considering I've never met a fairy before.”

“I am the one who made the jewels come out of Rosella's mouth.”

Harold almost jumped up and down, he was so excited. “That was you? Really? Uh, say, Ethel . . . tell me, what did my sweetie pie do to make you do it?”

“H
AROLD WAS IN THE COURTYARD PRACTICING HIS SWORDPLAY
.”

“My name is
Ethelinda
,” the fairy boomed. “I rewarded her after she gave me a drink of well water.”

“I can do that. That's a—”

“I'm not thirsty. Do you know that you're making poor Rosella miserable?”

“She's not miserable. She's a princess. She's deliriously happy.”

Ethelinda tried a different approach. “Why do you want jewels so much?”

“You wouldn't want them?”

“Not if it was making my betrothed unhappy.”

“How could she be unhappy? If I were in her shoes, I'd be delighted. She wouldn't be a princess today if I hadn't come along. She gets to wear a crown. She has nice gowns, Royal Ladies-in-Waiting. And me.”

“You have to stop making her talk.”

“But she has to talk. That's what makes
me
happy.”

Ethelinda raised her wand. Prince Harold was one second away from becoming a frog. Then she lowered it. Her self-confidence was gone. If she turned him into a frog, he might figure out a way to make it better than being a prince. She certainly didn't want to reward him the way she'd rewarded Myrtle.

She didn't know what to do.

The Royal Manservant who'd seen Rosella faint finally reached the courtyard. He ran to Harold.

Ethelinda vanished.

Myrtle's party started at two o'clock. The school-teacher arrived first. His present was a slate and ten boxes of colored chalk.

Myrtle opened one of the boxes. She wrote on the slate in green and orange letters, “Thank you. I'll let you know when I run out of chalk.”

The baker came next. His cake was so big that it barely fit through the cottage doorway. The icing was chocolate. The decorations were pink and blue whipped cream. The writing on top said, “Happy Fourteen-and-Six-Weeks Birthday, Myrtle! Please Keep Quiet!”

The whole village came. Nobody wanted to take a chance on making Myrtle mad. The guests filled the cottage and the yard and the yards of the surrounding cottages. The widow thanked them all for coming. Myrtle collected her presents. She smiled when anyone handed her an especially big box.

The food was the finest anybody could remember. Myrtle ate so many poached quail eggs and roasted chestnuts that she almost got sick. After everybody ate, she opened her presents. There were hundreds of them. Her favorites were:

The framed sampler that read, “Speak to me only with thine eyes.”

The bouquet of mums.

The music box that played “Hush, Little Baby.”

The silver quill pen, engraved with the motto “The pen is mightier than the voice.”

The parrot that sat on Myrtle's shoulder and repeated over and over, “Shut your trap. Shut your trap. Shut your trap.”

The charm bracelet with the golden letters S, I, L, E, N, C, and E.

After all the presents were opened, everybody sang “Happy Birthday.” Myrtle was so thrilled that she smiled and clapped her hands.

Rosella was gravely ill, and Harold was seriously frightened. Even under mounds of swansdown quilts, she couldn't stop shivering. She felt as if a vulture's claws were scratching at her throat and a carpenter hammering at her temples.

The Royal Physician was called in to examine her. When he was finished, he told Harold that she was very sick. He said her only hope of recovery lay in bed rest and complete silence. His fee for the visit was the jewels he collected when he listened to her chest and made her say “Aah” sixteen times.

Ten

M
yrtle had a birthday party every week. She and the widow laughed and laughed at their silliness in wishing for jewels to come out of Myrtle's mouth. When Myrtle got bored between parties, she would speak into a big jar. Then she'd let the bugs and the snakes loose in the yard and make them race. She and her mother would have a grand time betting on the winners.

Rosella got better so slowly that Ethelinda's patience snapped. The evening after Myrtle's fourth party, Ethelinda materialized as herself in the widow's cottage. “I am the fairy Ethelinda, who rewarded your sister and punished you. You have to help Rosella,” she thundered.

Myrtle sneered. “I do? I have to?”

A bull snake slithered under Ethelinda's gown. A gnat bit her wing.

“Ouch!” Ethelinda yelped.

“Be careful, dear,” the widow told Myrtle. “You might make a poisonous snake.”

“Yes, you have to help her,” Ethelinda said. “Or I'll punish you severely.”

Myrtle wrote on her slate, “I like your punishments.”

“I can take your punishment away,” Ethelinda said.

As fast as she could, Myrtle wrote, “What do I have to do?”

Ethelinda explained the problem.

“I can fix that,” Myrtle wrote.

Ethelinda transported Myrtle to the palace, where Rosella was staring up at her lace bed canopy and wondering when her nighttime guards would arrive. As Ethelinda and Myrtle materialized, Ethelinda turned herself back into the old lady.

“I've brought your sister to help you, my dear,” Ethelinda said.

Rosella stared at them. Myrtle would never help her.

Myrtle had brought her slate with her. She wrote, “Change clothes with me and hide under the covers.”

Rosella didn't move. She wondered if she was delirious.

“Go ahead. Do it,” Ethelinda said. “She won't hurt you.”

Rosella nodded. She put on Myrtle's silk nightdress with the gold embroidery and slipped deep under the blankets. Myrtle got into Rosella's silk nightdress with the silver embroidery.

Myrtle climbed into Rosella's bed. She sat up and yodeled, long and loud. A hognose snake wriggled out of her mouth.

Harold heard her, even though he was at the other end of the palace. He started running, leaping, and skipping toward the sound. “She's better! She's well again!” he yelled. And how many jewels did that yodel make? he wondered.

Ethelinda made the snake disappear. Then she made herself invisible.

“Precious!” Harold said, coming through the door. He dashed to the bed. “The roses are back in your cheeks. Speak to me!”

“What roses?” Myrtle yelled as loud as she could. “I feel terrible.” The head of a boa constrictor filled her mouth.

Harold jumped back. “Aaaa! What's that?”

Rosella lifted a tiny corner of blanket so she could watch. The snake slithered out and wound itself around Myrtle's waist.

Myrtle grinned at Harold. “Do you like him? Should I name him after you?” Three hornets flew straight at him. One of them stung him on the nose. The other two buzzed around his head.

“Ouch! Wh-what's going on . . . h-honey pie? Th-that's a s-snake. Wh-where did the j-jewels go? Why are b-bugs and snakes coming out?”

This is fun, Myrtle thought. Who'd have thought I could scare a prince?

Poor Harold, Rosella thought. But it serves him right. He looks so silly. She fought back a giggle and wished she could make a bug come out of her mouth once in a while.

“I'm angry. This is what happens when I get angry.” A scorpion stuck its head out of Myrtle's mouth.

“Yow! Why are you angry? At me? What did I do?”

“It's not so great being a princess,” Myrtle yelled. “Nobody listens to me. All they care about are the jewels. You're the worst. It's all you care about, too. And I don't want to eat wild boar ever again. I hate wild boar.”

The air was so thick with insects that Harold could hardly see. Snakes wriggled across the carpets. Snakes slithered up the sconces. Snakes oozed down the tapestries. A gigantic one hung from the chandelier, its head swaying slowly.

A milk snake slipped under the covers. It settled its clammy body next to Rosella. She wanted to scream and run. Instead, she bit her lip and stayed very, very still.

“Sweetheart, I'm sorry. Forgive me. Ouch! That hurt.”

Myrtle screamed, “I'M NOT GOING TO TALK UNLESS I WANT TO!”

“All right. All right! You won't have to. And I'll listen to you. I promise.” Something bit his foot all the way through his boot. He hopped and kicked to get rid of it. “Everyone will listen. By order of Prince Harold.”

“AND PRINCESS ROSELLA,” Myrtle yelled.

“And Princess Rosella,” Harold echoed.

Myrtle lowered her voice. “Now leave me. I need my rest.”

Eleven

A
fter Harold left, Ethelinda made the snakes and bugs disappear. Rosella came out from under the covers.

“Thank you,” Rosella told her sister. An emerald fell on the counterpane.

Myrtle snatched the jewel and said, “You're welcome.” She snagged the fly before it got to Rosella's face. Then she crushed it in her fist.

“You've done a good deed,” Ethelinda began.

Myrtle shook her head. “Don't reward me. Thanks, but no thanks.” She let two cockroaches fall into the bed.

Ethelinda asked if Myrtle would help Rosella again if she needed it.

“Why should I?” Myrtle asked.

“I'll pay you,” Rosella said.

Myrtle pocketed the two diamonds. Not bad. She'd get to frighten the prince again and get jewels for it, too. “Okay.”

Myrtle and Rosella switched clothes again. Then Ethelinda sent Myrtle back home. When Myrtle was gone, Ethelinda said she had to leave too. She vanished.

Rosella sank back into her pillows. She didn't want Myrtle to help again, or even Ethelinda. She wanted to solve the problem of Harold and his poor subjects all by herself.

Harold didn't dare visit Rosella again that day. But he did command the Royal Servants to listen to her. So Rosella got rid of her nighttime guards. And she had her meal of poached quail eggs and roasted chestnuts at last.

She also ordered the Royal Ladies-in-Waiting to bring her a slate and chalk. From then on, she wrote instead of talking to them. She was tired of having them dive into her lap whenever she said anything.

And she had them bring her a box with a lock and a key. She kept the box and the slate by her side so she'd be ready when Harold came.

He showed up a week after Myrtle's visit. Rosella felt fine by then. She was sitting at her window, watching a juggler in the courtyard.

“Honey?” He poked his head in. He was ready to run if the room was full of creepy-crawlies. But the coast seemed clear, so he stepped in all the way. He was carrying a bouquet of daisies and a box of taffy. “All better, sweetheart?” He held the daisies in front of his face—in case any hornets started flying.

He looks so scared, Rosella thought. She smiled to make him stop worrying.

“T
HEY SAT THERE NOT SAYING ANYTHING
.”

He lowered the bouquet cautiously and placed it on a table. Then he sat next to her and looked her over. She seemed healthy. That silk nightdress was cute. Blue was a good color for her.

He hoped she wasn't feeling miserable anymore. Anyone who was going to marry him should be the happiest maiden in the kingdom. He still wanted her to talk up enough jewels for a new palace. Then, after that, he wouldn't mind a golden coach and a few other items. But he wanted her to be happy, too.

They sat there, not saying anything.

“Oh, here,” Harold said finally. He held out the bouquet and the candy.

She took them. “Thank you.”

An opal hovered on her lip and tumbled out. Harold reached for it, but Rosella was faster. She opened her box and dropped in the opal. It clinked against the stones already in there. She snapped the box shut.

That was pretty selfish of her, Harold thought. He started to get mad, but then he thought of boa constrictors and hornets. He calmed down. “What's the box for, darling?”