A Pearl Among Princes by Coleen Paratore Page A

approach Nuff’s stand.
    â€œWhat do you want them for?” I ask.
    The two five-star PITs regard me carefully.
    â€œTo brighten the dreary halls of Elmland,” Sir Peter says.
    â€œTo share with the sick of Ashland, so the music might help them heal,” Sir Richard counters.
    You win this one, Sir Richard, I think. What a noble response. If Lu wasn’t so enamored of you . . . But no, I will not allow myself to continue the thought.
    â€œMusic to my ears, fine sirs. You shall each have an equal share.”

CHAPTER 18
    Heart to Heart with Father
    Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender’s green;
When I am king, dilly dilly,
You shall be my queen.
    Hauling the pails of coal to the kitchen I think of the dance in the woods tonight and then of the Summersleave Ball next month. “Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be my queen.” This year I will wear my new purple satin dress to the ball. Mother’s letter directed Father to give it to me on my fourteenth birthday. It was way too big for me then. It fits me perfectly now. I’ll wear my oyster shell necklace from last birthday and weave a callaberry and Queen’s Lace crown.
    Alone on the garden path, I begin to skip. Imaging the music I will hear tonight in the circle in the woods, my feet step to the rhythm, I whirl and twirl. I am happiest when I am dancing, when all confusion slips away.
    I gather the lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and beets, then hurry to the kitchen, where Nora greets me with today’s next assignment. Peeling potatoes. Mounds of potatoes. I set my knife to the mottled brown skin of the first ugly spud and begin. My thoughts soon return to dancing, and then to my behavior yesterday, in equal measure.
    I think of how the Muffets seem to live all year for the Summersleave Ball. Hoping a prince will fall in love with them, maybe even profess his love at the ball. So many silly school stories and plays have this same exact plot. A handsome prince comes for summer study in the charming arts, meets a beautiful Miramore girl, a Muffet, of course, offers her a ring at the Summersleave Ball before a jubilant crowd and then the couple sails away to some far-off castle, where they will marry and live happily ever after.
    And now such a fairy tale could turn true. “You could be the first,” Nuff had said. I might sail away from Miramore in mere months. Then I think of the glance she and Sir Peter exchanged at Trading Day. Could it have meant that there is nothing between her and Mackree? My heart speeds up.
    My heart is pounding. It’s as if a fog is lifting and I can suddenly see clearly. I look down at the ugly potato peels and laugh. Tattlebug peers over at me. How is it that now, in this seemingly unimportant moment, in this kitchen, peeling potatoes, how do I know what my heart has decided? My eyes fill with tears, happy tears. My calling to leave Miramore is strong, and yet my tie to Mackree is unbreakable. To leave him would leave half of my heart on this island.
    Purl Will U Maree Me? Mackree had written in the sand that day.
    â€œYes!” I say aloud.
    Tattlebug is staring at me. “Who ya talking to?”
    â€œNo one,” I say. “Mind your beeswax.”
    Mackree’s face appears in my mind. Mackree, who makes me light up like a thousand stars born all at once of a night while the fiddle music weaves magic and the cow jumps over the moon. And yet my mind tells me I must go. My mind says my heart must be silent. I ache now knowing why it pains Mackree to see me. Maybe I can spare myself some sorrow too by avoiding him as much as I can until I leave Miramore. But how can I leave on a boat with a boy who may well be the heart’s desire of one of my best friends? Oh, this is heart-boggling brain-wrenching confusing . . .

    When I am finally done in the kitchen, I hurry to the hospital to visit Father.
    Good news,