Scarborough Fair and Other Stories by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough Page B

Madeline to braid her hair into two long braids then loop each of them up and tie her own kerchief around it. “How do I look now?” Babette asked.
    â€œWe-ell,” Madeline giggled. “I reckon it’s not that easy to make a sow’s ear from a silken purse either, if you don’t mind my saying so, but them little embroidered shoes don’t seem like the right accessories to me.”
    â€œOh dear. I can’t go barefoot! I’d be lame in no time!”
    â€œBe back in a tic, ma’am,” Madeline said, and returned with some wooden clogs. “These will protect your feet and help you look your part as well.”
    They were not, however, very comfortable, inflexible and clunky. Babette had to remember to pick her feet up off the floor and put them down again rather than gliding heel and toe as she was accustomed.
    But Madeline was satisfied with the disguise at last and saw her to the castle gate, handing over her cloth wrapped parcel of food at the last minute before waving goodbye.
    Now then, Babette thought, what tests are these that the wizard had for her before she could resume her rightful shape and place in life?
    From his palace tower, the wizard looked into his scrying glass and saw the humbly dressed princess, her wealth of golden hair braided up like a goose girl’s, and chuckled happily to himself before releasing another carrier crow.
    The crow dive-bombed the unsuspecting princess, who ducked and swung her arms, frightening a horse pulling a wagonload of dung. The horse reared and the cart upset and Babette slipped on some of the contents and fell onto her backside in the ordur.
    She said something very unprincesslike as the message tube dropped into her newly fragrant lap. “ You must walk seven times seven leagues in seven times in seven months. You must climb seven mountains, ford seven rivers, and cross seven seas.”
    â€œRight,” she said, though she couldn’t help wondering why wizards were always so preoccupied with sevens. He would have been very tedious to be married to, she thought. No wonder she had disliked him on sight. But she set off briskly, avoiding the curses of the dung-wagon driver. A swim in one of seven rivers sounded well worth walking seven leagues for at this point. In fact, she thought of turning back to the palace to have a wash before she started but she doubted the guards would recognize her, which was rather the point, even if they let her get close enough, stinking as she was, to see her properly. Oh well, the sooner she started the sooner she’d be there.
    Walking in clogs had very little in common with walking in seven-league boots, she realized after half of the first league. The clogs did not offer much in the way of striding ability. Finally once she was walking on the road that wound through meadows, she removed the offending footwear and walked barefoot in the grass, which was quite nice except for the occasional sticker patch.
    She was also plagued by insects, drawn to her new perfume. She swatted them with her food bundle and used some very ignoble language in her attempts to discourage them. Unfortunately, the mountain she had to climb that day was not high enough to be cold enough for the insects to fall away from her. When at last she reached bottom of the mountain she found a stream and, though not the first river, and, carrying her food packet and her clogs above her head, began to wade.
    At which point she became the object of aerial attack by seven crows, who tore the food packet from her hands and knocked away the clogs. They scattered what food they did not steal into the water, though she was left holding half of one of cook’s best roast swan sandwiches.
    When she bit down on it, she almost broke one of her teeth on another message tube. “You must travel through seven forests, sleeping on the ground among the beasts, finding bee pollen, chickweed...” and a long list of herbs, which