that the singing girls had taken their place, there seemed to be no one nearby, so she took a chance, opened the door to its full width, and poked her head out. That way, she could see into the banquet room: the backs of the queen and king, first (she recognized the crowns); many servants, all at attention; many villagers, who seemed to be opening gifts and exclaiming over them.
She could not quite see the princess, who was blocked by several footmen standing at attention near the door, or the people seated around her, which was a disappointment.
But the suitors were visible! And every bit as horrible as she remembered! She leaned forward to examine them one by one just as the king rose, holding a goblet of wine, to make a toast.
***
The schoolmaster, slumped in the chair to which he'd been assigned after his late arrival, was desolate. He knew he would have to rise and raise his own goblet in a moment, for the king was making a speech that would clearly end in a toast. But it would be a toast to the princess, and he didn't want to participate. He had already dropped the two gifts he had brought onto the floor beneath his chair. The bouquet of flowers that he had picked for the princess were simple wildflowers, not at all suited for this room or this table or—he groaned inwardly—for this bejeweled, coifed, satin-gowned beauty, the Princess Patricia Priscilla, who had looked at him, her aquamarine eyes alight with admiration but awash, too, with regret, when he arrived.
And his other gift, his gift for Pat, the pupil for whom he had had so much affection and hope? It was abandoned, too, on the floor. For there was no Pat, he realized now. The winsome schoolgirl had simply been the princess, disguised. Why had the princess played such a trick? The schoolmaster felt cheated and duped. It was one more loss in a life that had already been too filled with them.
The king droned on. Something about butterflies, how beautiful they were, like his daughter, the princess, emerging now from the cocoon of childhood into the blah blah blah. The schoolmaster stopped listening and looked around the lengthy table.
What he saw was very strange. Seated next to his small pupil Liz was a hideous man dressed in green. His head, from which was thrust a thick spikey wad of reddish-brown hair, was on his plate, and he was sobbing loudly.
Liz, he saw to his surprise, was patting the man's cheek and murmuring to him.
The king droned on, and the schoolmaster leaned forward to try to hear what Liz and the hideous man were saying to each other.
"I'm so ugly!" the man wailed. "I never knew!"
"It don't matter," little Liz was saying in a soothing voice.
"I never knew at all until I entered the castle and there was a whole phalanx of courtiers carrying mirrors! Mirrors! I never saw one before! I had no idea I was so ugly!" The man burst into fresh tears.
"Stop it," Liz said firmly to him. "I fink you're sweet. It don't matter about ugly."
The man snuffled.
"But you do need to brush your teef," she told him. "And I'll help you wiv that mess of hair."
"You will?" he asked, and lifted his head.
Across the table, the schoolmaster saw another odd sight. A thin man wearing makeup and dressed entirely in black was grabbing utensils, one after another. He had overturned a goblet and a candlestick by reaching frantically across the table to grab things. He was muttering at the same time.
"Wouldn't let my mirror bearers in, eh? No room for a hundred mirror bearers? What kind of domain is this? I must see myself! I must always see myself!"
He grabbed a silver soup ladle and held it in front of his own face, peering at the bowl of it as he tilted the ladle from side to side. His nose in the image grew huge, then receded to become a miniature nose atop a mammoth lopsided mustache. He had one huge Cyclops eye and one small, slitted piggy one.
"Valet!" he called out desperately. "Someone, summon my valet!"
(But the valet, sensing an opportunity,
She could not quite see the princess, who was blocked by several footmen standing at attention near the door, or the people seated around her, which was a disappointment.
But the suitors were visible! And every bit as horrible as she remembered! She leaned forward to examine them one by one just as the king rose, holding a goblet of wine, to make a toast.
***
The schoolmaster, slumped in the chair to which he'd been assigned after his late arrival, was desolate. He knew he would have to rise and raise his own goblet in a moment, for the king was making a speech that would clearly end in a toast. But it would be a toast to the princess, and he didn't want to participate. He had already dropped the two gifts he had brought onto the floor beneath his chair. The bouquet of flowers that he had picked for the princess were simple wildflowers, not at all suited for this room or this table or—he groaned inwardly—for this bejeweled, coifed, satin-gowned beauty, the Princess Patricia Priscilla, who had looked at him, her aquamarine eyes alight with admiration but awash, too, with regret, when he arrived.
And his other gift, his gift for Pat, the pupil for whom he had had so much affection and hope? It was abandoned, too, on the floor. For there was no Pat, he realized now. The winsome schoolgirl had simply been the princess, disguised. Why had the princess played such a trick? The schoolmaster felt cheated and duped. It was one more loss in a life that had already been too filled with them.
The king droned on. Something about butterflies, how beautiful they were, like his daughter, the princess, emerging now from the cocoon of childhood into the blah blah blah. The schoolmaster stopped listening and looked around the lengthy table.
What he saw was very strange. Seated next to his small pupil Liz was a hideous man dressed in green. His head, from which was thrust a thick spikey wad of reddish-brown hair, was on his plate, and he was sobbing loudly.
Liz, he saw to his surprise, was patting the man's cheek and murmuring to him.
The king droned on, and the schoolmaster leaned forward to try to hear what Liz and the hideous man were saying to each other.
"I'm so ugly!" the man wailed. "I never knew!"
"It don't matter," little Liz was saying in a soothing voice.
"I never knew at all until I entered the castle and there was a whole phalanx of courtiers carrying mirrors! Mirrors! I never saw one before! I had no idea I was so ugly!" The man burst into fresh tears.
"Stop it," Liz said firmly to him. "I fink you're sweet. It don't matter about ugly."
The man snuffled.
"But you do need to brush your teef," she told him. "And I'll help you wiv that mess of hair."
"You will?" he asked, and lifted his head.
Across the table, the schoolmaster saw another odd sight. A thin man wearing makeup and dressed entirely in black was grabbing utensils, one after another. He had overturned a goblet and a candlestick by reaching frantically across the table to grab things. He was muttering at the same time.
"Wouldn't let my mirror bearers in, eh? No room for a hundred mirror bearers? What kind of domain is this? I must see myself! I must always see myself!"
He grabbed a silver soup ladle and held it in front of his own face, peering at the bowl of it as he tilted the ladle from side to side. His nose in the image grew huge, then receded to become a miniature nose atop a mammoth lopsided mustache. He had one huge Cyclops eye and one small, slitted piggy one.
"Valet!" he called out desperately. "Someone, summon my valet!"
(But the valet, sensing an opportunity,
Similar Books
