Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine Page B

read Hattie’s first.
    _Dear Mama,
    is not my penmanship much improoved? I have been practicing my flurrishes. The words may be harder to read, and Writing Mistress dispares of my spelling, but when you stand away from the page, is the result not charming?
    Sir Peter’s daughter has vanished. Madame Edith says she was called away in the night. However, I suspect that Madame Edith is lying and that Ella has run off. There was always something devious and deceetful about her, although her father is such a charming, rich man.
    My new tresses are divine, and I emmerged among the other girls again two days ago when they arrived. I suspect my locks may have vanished with Ella. A hartfess prank to play on me, who always treated her with kindness. But I still hope she has come to no harm and has not been eaten by ogres or captured by bandits or caught fire or fallen into bad company, as I often imagine._
    The rest of the letter recounted the compliments Hattie had received on a new gown. She ended with a farewell and the largest flourish of all
    — HATTIE
    The recto:
    _Deer Muther,
    I hav ben feeling poarly all week. I hav hedakes espeshly wen I reed. You allways say to much reeding is bad for the iyes but Writting Mistress wont lissen. She called me littel moar than an iddiot and sed ther will be no hop for me when I am gron if I dont lern to reed better.
    Hattie says Ella was bad to leeve but I think she was bad not to tak me to.
    Ella did everything Hattie toled her to. I wish peepul did wat I want. Its not fare.
    Yoar mizrubbel dawter,
    Olive_
    The whole page was full of blots and cross-outs. Each letter was formed with a wobbly hand, as though the writer didn’t know how to hold a pen. Poar Olive!
    Her letter was followed by a sad tale about the genie in Aladdin’s lamp. He had been forced by Aladdin’s false uncle, the magician, to take up residence in the lamp and had been given power to grant everyone’s wishes but his own. Before he was captured, he had been in love with a goose girl. The genie spent his years in the lamp longing for her and wondering whether she’d married someone else, whether she’d grown old, whether she’d died.
    I closed the book, weeping a little. I wasn’t confined to a lamp, but I too was not free.
    The size of things began to grow shortly after we started out on the third morning. In the past, objects far away had always appeared smaller than objects close by. But now, the old rule stood on its head. The trees near us were dwarfed by the trees in the distance ahead. At ten o’clock, I saw a pumpkin as wide as I was tall. At eleven, we passed one as big as a carriage.
    At noon, we saw a giant. He was building a stone wall out of boulders. It was already twice my height, and I shuddered to think of the livestock it would pen.
    When the giant saw us, he trumpeted his pleasure. “Oooayaagik (_honk_)!” he called, dropping a rock and thundering toward us, his mouth open wide in a huge smile of welcome.
    Our horse reared in fright, and I struggled to keep my seat, till the giant reached down and touched the beast gently on his muzzle. He quieted instantly, and even nuzzled against the giant’s thigh.
    “Aaaope! Aiiiee uuu koobee (_screech_) ooob payiipe aau,” I said. It meant “hello” in Abdegi. “We’ve come to attend the wedding of Uaaxee’s daughter,” I added in Kyrrian. “But are we too late?”
    “You’re just in time. I’ll lead you there.”
    The farm was two hours away. Koopooduk, the giant, strolled next to our horse.
    “Is Uaaxee expecting you?” he asked.
    “No,” I answered. “Will she mind?”
    “Mind? She won’t be able to thank you enough for coming. Giants love strangers.” He paused. “And friends too. Lots of friends and strangers will be there.”
    We traveled in silence for a while, with Koopooduk smiling down at us.
    “Are you tired? Hungry?” he asked presently.
    “We’re fine,” Sir Stephan said, although I was starving.
    “Everyone is