The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales Read online

  When they got back to the stable cave after that gallop, Cinderellis told Ghasam what a phenomenal horse she was. Then he told Chasam and Shasam what phenomenal horses they were, because he didn’t want them to feel left out. He knew only too well what that was like.

  Princess Marigold turned fifteen. There were banquets and balls and puppet shows in her honor. Everyone said she was the sweetest, kindest, least uppity princess in the world. And pretty to boot.

  Nobody mentioned that she was also the most terrified princess, because she had told only Apricot about that, and he had misunderstood anyway.

  She was scared because of her father and his—well, his crazy ideas. Since he couldn’t go on a quest, he had devised a contest to find her future husband. He hadn’t revealed the contest rules yet, but he had said that the winner would be courageous, determined, and a fine horseman. Considering the king’s quest souvenirs, though, Marigold thought she’d probably wind up marrying a mean stubborn gnome who could ride kangaroos!

  The final banquet was almost over when King Humphrey III stood and beamed at his guests. “Dear friends,” he began. “Tomorrow our Royal Glassworkers will begin to create a giant hill in the shape of a pyramid. It will be made entirely of glass. When it is completed, our darling daughter will wait at the top with a basket of golden apples. The brave lad who rides his horse up to her and takes three apples will have her hand in marriage.”

  Marigold fainted. Her father was too excited to notice. Except for Apricot, nobody noticed. They were too astonished. Apricot was worried. Had his dear lass eaten something that disagreed with her?

  King Humphrey III continued. “We will also give the provinces of Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle to the winner to rule immediately. And he will be king of all of Biddle after I’m gone. Any lad can compete. All he needs is a horse and a suit of armor.”

  After she recovered from her faint, Marigold tried to persuade her father to change his mind. But he wouldn’t listen. He said the winner of the contest would be perfect for her and perfect for Biddle.

  Marigold disagreed. The man who won the contest would be cruel and evil. No kind person would make a horse climb a glass hill.

  And she would have to marry him.

  In a week the pyramid was built. Its glass was clearer than a drop of dew and slipperier than the sides of an ice cube. King Humphrey III wasn’t completely satisfied, though, because it was level on top. But Marigold had flatly refused to sit on a point.

  The pyramid’s actual point was made by a cloth canopy that would be over the princess’s head, giving her shade. King Humphrey III sighed. It would have to do.

  The king announced the contest in a proclamation. Cinderellis heard about it from Ralph at breakfast. Not because Ralph told him. No. Ralph told Burt. Naturally.

  “The contest starts tomorrow.” Ralph laughed. “Burt, do you think Thelma wants to climb a glass hill?”

  Burt laughed for five minutes straight. “That’s funny,” he said.

  Ralph said, “Want to see it?”

  Burt said, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  They didn’t ask me if I want to see it with them, Cinderellis thought. Well, he didn’t. He wanted to climb the pyramid. He wondered how slippery the glass was.

  Cinderellis didn’t want to become a prince and marry a princess he’d never even met. He just wanted to see if his sticky powder would take him and one of the mares up the glass hill. And then he wanted to show the golden apples to Ralph and Burt. They were giving up a day of farming to see the contest. That meant they cared about it. And they’d love the golden apples. They were farmers, after all. They loved fruit. When Cinderellis gave the apples to them, they’d love him too.

  He took some sticky powder from his room and started walking toward Biddle Castle.

  Dressed as a Royal Dairymaid, Princess Marigold wandered through the field around the pyramid. She passed gaily colored tents and neighing, stamping horses and shouting, striding knights and squires. There are hundreds of contestants, she thought. And not one of them had even asked to meet her. All they wanted was to rule Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle. And to make their poor horses go up a stupid glass hill.

  But perhaps there was one man among them who would be a good ruler, even if he didn’t care about her. Maybe he had an extraordinary horse who didn’t mind trying to climb glass, a horse so well treated that it would do anything for its rider.

  If such a man was here, she had to find him and figure out how to get him to the top.

  She squared her shoulders. To find him, she had to talk to all of them, all the horse torturers. That was why she had dressed as a Royal Dairymaid and left Apricot in the castle—so no one would suspect she was a princess.

  Cinderellis saw the glass hill from a mile and a half away, sparkling in the sunlight. It was as high and almost as steep as the castle’s highest tower. When he got close, he saw the Royal Guards surrounding the pyramid. He knew one of them—Farley, who used to sell candy apples at the yearly fair in Snettering-on-Snoakes.

  Cinderellis asked Farley to let him touch the glass hill. Farley looked around to make sure nobody was watching. Then he nodded.

  Cinderellis barely felt the hill because his hand slipped off so fast. For a second it felt lovely—cool and smoother than smooth. And then his hand was back at his side. He tried again. Mmm, pleasant. Whoops!

  “A lot of people are here, aren’t they?” Cinderellis said.

  Farley turned to look at the crowd. Quickly, Cinderellis tossed a handful of sticky powder on the hill.

  “Yup,” Farley said.

  Three quarters of the powder rolled off the hill! If sticky powder, which stuck to everything, rolled off, then that hill was the slipperiest thing Cinderellis had ever seen, felt, or imagined.

  Eight

  Princess Marigold hadn’t talked to a single contestant who would be a good ruler. Some wanted to raise taxes. Some wanted to have hunting parties all the time. One even said he’d declare war and take over all of Biddle! Another said he’d drown Apricot, because he didn’t want cat hair all over everything! If either of them reached the top of the hill, she’d kick him all the way to the bottom. She’d swallow the golden apples before she’d let either of them get his hands on them.

  After talking to at least a hundred contestants, Marigold gave up. She just stared at the pyramid, trying not to bawl.

  Cinderellis stared at it too. He imagined climbing it while Ralph and Burt watched.

  He said good-bye to Farley and backed into a person behind him. “Oops! Excuse me.” He turned around.

  He’d bumped into a Royal Dairymaid. A pretty one, with a sweet face, a very sweet face.

  Now here’s someone with a kind face, Marigold thought. Too bad he was a farm lad. It would be a waste of time to talk to him, since he wouldn’t have a suit of armor. But she wanted to know what someone who looked so kind would say.

  She smiled at him, feeling shy because he looked so nice. “Er, pardon me. What would you do if you won the contest and became prince of Skiddle and Luddle and Buffle?”

  He liked her dimple. “What?” What had she said? “Sorry.”

  None of the others had apologized for anything. “That’s all right.” She repeated the question.

  “I don’t know.” He wished he had a good answer. “I don’t want to be a prince.”

  Ah. What a good answer. “But if you had to be?”

  He wondered why she wanted to know. But why not? He was curious about lots of things too. “I guess if I were prince, I’d create inventions that would make my subjects’ lives easier.” That’s right. That’s what he would do. What could he invent for a Royal Dairymaid? “For example, I’d invent cow treats.” He nodded, figuring it out. He’d leave out the special horse ingredients and add some ground cow parsnip and dried cow shark instead. “The cows would love the treats, and they’d love to be milked.”

  “That would be a great invention,” the princess said. He wanted to do something that animals w
ould like! This lad would never torture a horse.

  Nobody had ever encouraged Cinderellis before. She was the nicest maiden in Biddle. “I already invented horse treats,” he said, boasting a little.

  “‘I DON’T KNOW.’ HE WISHED HE HAD A GOOD ANSWER. ‘I DON’T WANT TO BE A PRINCE.’”

  “They must be delicious,” Marigold said. Gosh! she thought, he’s already done something to make horses happy. “Um,” she added, “if you did become a prince, would you go on quests?”

  Cinderellis shook his head. “When I want something, I invent it, or invent a way to get it.” He added in a rush, “Most of my inventions are powders that do things.” He stopped. “You’re probably not interested.”

  “I am! Please tell me about them.” If she knew him better, they might be friends—her first human friend.

  “Well, my first invention was flying powder.” He told her about the powders.

  She listened and asked questions. Cinderellis had never had so much fun in his life. This Royal Dairymaid was splendid!

  Marigold had never had so much fun either. She especially liked the idea of fluffy powder. You’d always have a soft place to sit, and—oh my! “Your fluffy powder could save lives. If a person—or, say, a cat—fell out of a window, you could sprinkle fluffy powder on the ground. And the cat wouldn’t be hurt.” She beamed at him.

  He beamed back. “I’m thinking of using my sticky powder—”

  “Oh no!” Marigold saw the king heading their way. “I’d better go. I have some milking to do.” She curtsied and fled into the crowd.

  “Where do you . . . When could I . . .”

  But she was gone, and he didn’t even know her name.

  Nine

  Back in his workshop cave, Cinderellis got to work. Sticky powder alone wouldn’t get him up the glass hill, so he mixed in extra-strength powder and a few other ingredients. While he invented, he thought about the Royal Dairymaid. He wished he’d had a chance to tell her he was going to climb the pyramid. Then she could have watched and rooted for him.

  But she might have thought he wanted to marry the princess. He didn’t. He wanted— He stopped mixing. He wanted to marry the Royal Dairymaid! He hadn’t felt lonely for a second while they’d talked.

  But he didn’t know her name, so how could he marry her? Well, she was a Royal Dairymaid, so he should be able to find her again. There couldn’t be that many of them.

  Suppose he didn’t show the golden apples to Ralph and Burt. They might like the apples, but they probably wouldn’t be interested in his special sticky powder, since they never cared about his inventions, not one bit. So suppose he hid the apples instead, till the princess married somebody else. Then suppose he sold them and used the money to set up an invention workshop in Snettering-on-Snoakes. He’d do what he’d said a prince should do—invent things to make people’s lives easier. He’d sell his inventions, and he’d marry the Royal Dairymaid.

  He started mixing again. Yes, he’d marry her. That is, if she’d have him.

  The powder was ready to try out. He spread it on Ghasam’s front hoof.

  She couldn’t lift her foot. She strained. Finally she forced it up—with grass and dirt attached.

  Too strong. He cleaned off her hoof. Then he added a pinch of this and a teaspoon of that and spread the mixture on Shasam’s hooves.

  Now the powder didn’t work at all. Shasam could even gallop. He frowned. Maybe his on-off powder was in the “off” phase when her feet were on the ground and in the “on” phase when her feet were in the air. That would mean that the sticky powder was only active when there was nothing to stick to.

  He could fix that. He tapped each hoof with a stick. That should reset the phases.

  There. Each step was difficult, and Shasam had to strain a little to lift her hooves, but she could lift them and the grass and dirt didn’t come up too. Good.

  Now he needed to add his time-release powder, which would turn the stickiness on when they started climbing the glass hill and turn it off when they got back to the bottom.

  “THE POWDER WAS READY TO TRY OUT.”

  Marigold woke up in the middle of the night. She had dreamed of a secret weapon that would keep a horse and rider from getting to the top of the glass hill. With her secret weapon she wouldn’t have to marry someone who was mean and nasty and cruel. She patted Apricot, who was curled up next to her, and fell back to sleep, smiling.

  Early the next morning Royal Servants climbed a ladder to the top of the pyramid. They brought with them an outdoor throne, a picnic lunch for a princess and a cat, the basket of golden apples, and a water bowl for Apricot. When they came down, Marigold carried Apricot and the secret weapon to the top. As soon as she got there, the Royal Servants took the ladder away and the contest began.

  After breakfast the same morning, Ralph said, “Good day to watch a glass hill.” He guffawed.

  Burt guffawed.

  Ralph pushed back his chair and walked out of the farmhouse. Burt pushed back his chair and followed him. Cinderellis wondered if the Royal Dairymaid would be watching the contest.

  At the workshop cave, he worked on his powder some more. Finally he thought it was ready.

  At first Marigold had been ready with her secret weapon whenever a horse galloped at the pyramid. But rider after rider failed to climb up even one inch, so she relaxed and became interested in looking down on everything. The knights and squires seemed no bigger than her hand, and their cries and the neighing of their horses sounded muffled and thin. Only Biddle Mountain appeared as big as ever, looming in the distance, much higher than the glass hill.

  The day grew warmer and Marigold grew hot—hot and bored. Apricot was hot too, but he knew his dear lass had brought him up there to show everyone how important he was to her. So he rubbed himself against her leg and purred.

  Marigold wished she knew the name of the nice farm lad. Even if she never saw him again, though, she’d remember their conversation forever.

  Cinderellis wanted to scream. He’d been putting the copper suit of armor on for hours. He’d finally gotten the tasset and the mail skirt on over his waist and hips. The cuisses and the poleyns and the greaves were on his legs. The sabatons were on his feet. The vambraces were on his arms. The couters were over his elbows.

  But the breastplate kept popping off!

  Over and over he’d hammered it here and bent it there. And it would hold—for about ten seconds. Then—POP!

  At this rate he’d never get to the pyramid.

  Ten

  A knight on a black stallion prepared to climb the hill. The stallion looked bigger than any of the other horses. Marigold reached for her secret weapon.

  But the stallion’s hooves slipped off the pyramid as soon as they touched it. The knight made the horse try again—and the horse slipped again. The knight wanted to try a third time, but everybody yelled that he should let the rest of them take a turn.

  Burt and Ralph laughed so hard, their sides hurt.

  Marigold put her secret weapon down and started breathing again. It was three thirty. Only a few more hours till it would be too dark to see the hill and she could come down. Only a few more hours and it would be over forever.

  But then her father would come up with another horrible plan.

  Cinderellis had finally wedged the breastplate under the fauld. And he’d managed to mount Chasam, even though it had taken over an hour. He’d picked Chasam because she’d looked so disappointed when he’d tried the powder out on Ghasam.

  He pulled the gauntlets over his hands. Now for the helmet. Uh-oh. He couldn’t make his hands in the gauntlets do anything. He’d never get the helmet on. He took the gauntlets off again and put the helmet on.

  Now he couldn’t see to put on the gauntlets. He could only see through one chink in the visor, just enough to steer Chasam.

  Well, he didn’t need to see. He could feel. There. The gauntlets were on.

  Now where were the reins? He couldn’t tell through
the gauntlets. Were these the reins? He hoped so.

  He kicked Chasam, harder than he meant to. She didn’t mind. They were off. It was five o’clock.

  Two more horses to go. Marigold scratched under her tiara. She felt hot and sticky. Apricot was drinking from his water bowl. She was glad he was up here with her. She wished that kind farm lad were here too. She’d introduce him to Apricot, and he’d invent something nice for a cat.

  One more horse to go.

  Marigold wondered what her father would dream up next. Maybe he’d make her sit at the bottom of a glass hole, and the horse that didn’t crash down and squash her would have her hand and Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle.

  The last horse, like the 213 before it, failed to climb the hill. Marigold stood up. At last. She hadn’t needed her secret weapon. Wait! What was that? A cloud of dust coming from Biddle Mountain?

  In the field below, King Humphrey III couldn’t see the dust cloud. He decided that the contestants could all try again tomorrow. He didn’t want to end the contest after just one day when it was so important.

  Then he heard people shouting. There was another rider? Let him come, then. Maybe this one would be enough of a horseman to climb the pyramid. Maybe this one deserved Marigold.

  Cinderellis saw the pyramid through the chink in the visor. They were almost there.

  Everyone was astonished at the beauty and size of the copper-colored mare. Everyone was also amazed that such a glorious horse would let herself be ridden by that nutty knight or whatever he was. For one thing, his armor was tarnished and filthy. His posture was terrible. His hands and the reins were flopping around in his lap. He wasn’t even really riding the mare. She was carrying him, like cargo.

  Marigold’s heart started pounding.

  Chasam cantered up to the glass hill. Cinderellis sort of kicked her to keep going. She placed her front right hoof on the hill. She leaned her weight on it. It held!

  She started to climb. The watching crowd grew silent.