The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales Read online

  Marigold didn’t know what to do. If this mare climbed the hill, it would be because she wanted to. Any fool could see the mare’s rider wasn’t making her do anything. But the rider still could be mean and nasty. Marigold picked up her secret weapon.

  But maybe he’s nice, she thought, as nice as the farm lad. She had to find out. At least she had to see his face. “Sir!” she called. “Please take off your helmet.”

  Who was yelling? Cinderellis could see only the glass hill in front of him. He tried to look up, but all he saw was the inside of the helmet. Was something wrong? He tried to push his visor up. Nothing happened.

  “I’d like to see your face,” Marigold called.

  Somebody was yelling again. Cinderellis decided to take the helmet completely off. He pushed up on it. Nothing happened.

  Chasam was a tenth of the way up the hill. The crowd on the ground almost stopped breathing.

  He’s trying to do what I want, Marigold thought. That’s something. And he didn’t force the horse up the hill. She laughed. If he couldn’t even get his helmet off, he’d never be able to pick up the apples—if he climbed all the way up.

  She thought of tossing the apples into his lap. If nobody ever got to the top, the next contest could be worse than this one. Or her father might let this contest go on forever, and she’d spend the rest of her life up here.

  She put the secret weapon down. The apples were next to the throne. She took one, aimed carefully, and threw. The apple landed on Chasam’s saddle, in the little valley between the saddle and Cinderellis’ mail skirt.

  Huh! Cinderellis thought. Did something hit me?

  Marigold picked up another apple. She would have thrown it, but she got worried. She was taking an awful chance. She hadn’t seen the knight and she hadn’t talked to him. Maybe they could talk, even if she couldn’t see him. “Sir,” she called, “what would you do if you ruled Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle?”

  “What?” Cinderellis yelled. “What? Speak louder.”

  A roar came from the helmet. Marigold didn’t hear words, just a roar. Whatever was in the armor didn’t know how to talk. It could only roar. It was a monster! And she’d given it an apple!

  Eleven

  Marigold reached for the pitcher that held her secret weapon. But she hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt the horse.

  Chasam was a third of the way up the hill. And climbing.

  The monster would be up here in a minute. She had to do something! She’d try to use only enough to make the mare slide down slowly. She leaned over the edge of her platform and poured a thin stream of olive oil down toward Cinderellis.

  Everyone watching wondered why the princess was leaning over the edge of the pyramid. They were too far away to see the pitcher of oil.

  The powder wasn’t made to withstand olive oil. Chasam started to slip.

  Cinderellis thought, We’re going down! Is Chasam hurt? What went wrong with the powder?

  Chasam couldn’t drop Cinderellis. She loved him too much. She spread her legs so she wouldn’t topple over and slid down slowly.

  Ralph’s and Burt’s mouths dropped open. What a mare! Any other horse would have fallen on its head, or on top of its rider.

  At the bottom of the pyramid Chasam turned around and took off at a gallop.

  King Humphrey III issued a proclamation announcing that there would be a second and a third chance to climb the glass hill.

  Cinderellis lay panting in the dirt in front of the workshop cave. Chasam, Ghasam, and Shasam were grazing nearby.

  It had taken him a half hour to get his helmet off. Once it was off, he’d used his teeth to tear the gauntlets off his hands. And then he’d squirmed out of everything else.

  His powder had failed. He had failed.

  Shasam sniffed the golden apple, which had fallen into the parsley patch. Cinderellis picked it up, and Shasam cantered a little ways off, ready for a game of horse-treat catch. But Cinderellis was too depressed for games. Besides, Shasam might break a tooth on the stupid golden apple.

  One apple wouldn’t buy a workshop in Snetteringon-Snoakes. He wouldn’t be able to marry the Royal Dairymaid on just one apple. He might as well not have it.

  Still, he wondered how he’d gotten it. The only explanation he could think of was that the princess had thrown it to him. But why would she?

  He stood up and carried the armor and the apple into the cave. He dumped the armor on the heap with the other armor and hid the apple behind an outcropping of rock. Then he headed to the farmhouse for dinner.

  Ralph and Burt were just finishing up.

  “Did anyone win the contest?” Cinderellis asked.

  “Not today,” Ralph said. He smiled his special smile at Burt.

  Cinderellis didn’t even notice.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Burt said.

  Tomorrow?

  “Or the day after,” Ralph said.

  He had two more chances!

  “There was a beautiful mare,” Ralph added.

  “Mare’s rider was an idiot,” Burt said.

  “Real idiot,” Ralph said.

  They both laughed.

  “Work to do,” Cinderellis said. He ran out of the farmhouse. He had to find out what had gone wrong with his powder. And then he had to fix it.

  He’d marry that Royal Dairymaid yet!

  In the stable cave he lit a lantern and bent over Chasam’s left front hoof. She whinnied and blew warm air across his forehead.

  Hmm. The hoof looked greasy. Cinderellis touched the greasy spot. He tasted it.

  Olive oil! They’d used olive oil to make the pyramid slipperier. How could they do that without telling? It wasn’t fair.

  What would repel olive oil? Drying powder might help, but drying powder worked best on water. Olive pits mixed with drying powder? Olive pits were surrounded by olive oil right there in the olive, and they never became soggy, so they must repel the oil. Yes, that should do it. He ran to the farmhouse pantry for olives and olive oil.

  In the morning Marigold asked the Chief Royal Cook to refill her secret weapon pitcher. But the Chief Royal Cook was fresh out of olive oil. Marigold said walnut oil would be fine.

  In the field around the glass hill the contestants prepared for the day’s trial. A knight painted sticky honey on his horse’s hooves. A squire scraped his stallion’s shoes to make them rough. Another knight screwed hooks into his mare’s shoes.

  Outside the workshop cave Cinderellis poured olive oil down a rock that was about as steep as the glass hill. Then he dusted his new powder on Ghasam’s hoofs. She started to climb and then slipped. Cinderellis added a little more olive-pit powder and told Ghasam to try again.

  The knight who had painted honey on his horse’s hooves galloped up to the glass hill. His horse tried to step onto the hill but slipped right off.

  Marigold petted Apricot. It was going to be another long, hot day.

  Ralph grinned at Burt. Burt grinned at Ralph. It was going to be another fun day.

  It had taken all morning and almost all afternoon, but Cinderellis’ new powder was ready. And Cinderellis was ready, in the silver armor. It had been easier to get into, because he’d learned a few tricks the day before. But being inside was as bad as ever. He could hardly see anything, and his hands were almost useless inside the gauntlets. Still, he was in it, and he was mounted on Shasam. Chasam had earned a rest. He’d ride Ghasam tomorrow if anything went wrong today.

  But what could go wrong?

  Twelve

  The sun was setting behind Biddle Mountain. I didn’t need the oil at all today, Marigold thought. But then she saw a dust cloud in the distance. Oh no! Could the mare be coming back? Could the monster be coming back?

  People started yelling. “The mare! The mare!”

  But it wasn’t the copper mare. This horse was a mare, but she was silver and even bigger than the copper mare. One thing was the same, though: The same fool was riding as yesterday. Anyone could see that, even though the rid
er wore dirty banged-up silver armor instead of dirty banged-up copper armor.

  Cinderellis and Shasam reached the pyramid. Shasam started to climb the hill. It wasn’t hard. She began to trot.

  Marigold was terrified. The mare was halfway up the hill. Where was the walnut oil? She put Apricot down and reached for it. The hem of her gown knocked into the basket that held the apples and sent an apple clattering down the pyramid.

  Shasam saw the apple. Horse treat! She veered and caught it with her teeth. Then she started climbing again.

  Marigold poured the walnut oil. Shasam was two thirds of the way up the glass hill, but when the oil touched her hooves, she started to slip. Oh nooo! She fought, and her hooves beat the glass.

  At first Cinderellis thought Shasam was dancing. But no, she was falling. Was she all right? Was she hurt?

  Shasam slid down the same way Chasam had. At the bottom she made sure Cinderellis was still in the saddle. Then she galloped away, still holding the golden apple between her teeth.

  Cinderellis was furious. How could they have switched oils on him?

  And what would they use tomorrow?

  And how had Shasam gotten a golden apple? He couldn’t even guess, and he didn’t have time to think about it anyway. He had to figure out how to fix his powder. What he needed was an all-purpose oil repellent. On the farm they grew the nuts and grains for every kind of oil that Biddlers used. What if he ground up the hulls and pits of all of them and added that to the powder? It was a big job, but when he was done, he’d have an all-purpose oil-repellent extra-strength time-release on-off sticky powder that would climb any glass hill anywhere.

  Inventing the new powder took all night and most of the next day, but finally it was ready. Cinderellis started putting on the golden armor. It was too big, so he dusted it with shrinking powder. And made it too small. So he dusted it with growing powder. And made it too big. He wasn’t used to working in such a rush, and he hated it. He sprinkled on just a little shrinking powder. And made it exactly the way it had been when he started. He was going to bounce around in it, but it would have to do. When the contest was over, he was going to invent better armor.

  Marigold waited for the dust cloud. Everybody else was waiting too.

  And there it was—the dust cloud.

  The mare was golden this time, and so splendid she took Marigold’s breath away. Why did such a marvelous horse let a monster ride her?

  Cinderellis ached all over from crashing into a different part of the armor whenever Ghasam took a step. Not only that, his helmet kept bouncing around too. Sometimes he could see outside pretty well. Sometimes he could just see a little. And sometimes all he could see was the inside of the helmet. Whenever he could see, he pointed Ghasam toward the pyramid and hoped for the best.

  They reached the glass hill. Ghasam started climbing. Cinderellis’ helmet shifted. All he could see now was gray metal and three rivets.

  Marigold didn’t waste a second. She went right for her pitcher of oil, which was walnut again. She leaned over the edge of the pyramid and started pouring.

  The oil flowed down the hill. It reached the mare, but it didn’t stop her. She didn’t slip a bit. She just kept climbing.

  Marigold dropped the pitcher and picked Apricot up. She petted the cat and trembled. She was going to have to marry the monster.

  Cinderellis felt Ghasam climb higher and higher. It’s working! he thought. If only he could see.

  Ghasam stepped onto the platform and stopped. She didn’t like being so high up. She shifted from foot to foot.

  Cinderellis wondered why Ghasam had stopped. Were they at the top? Had they made it? He tried to move the helmet so he could see. He banged on it, but it didn’t budge. He tried to raise the visor, but it wouldn’t budge either. How would he get the third apple if he couldn’t see?

  Marigold hugged Apricot even tighter. Too tight, the cat thought. He wished that she’d stop squeezing and that the horse would go away.

  Marigold screamed, “Stay away from us! I won’t marry you!”

  Somebody was yelling again. “What?” Cinderellis yelled back.

  That sounds like a word, Marigold thought. But what was it? What difference did it make? She yelled, “Go away! Leave us alone!”

  “What?”

  She got it! It had said, “Cat.” It wanted Apricot! The monster wanted Apricot! “I’ll never give him up, not even if you torture me.”

  Ghasam wished her dear lad would tell her what to do. She took a step back and then a step forward. She hated it up here.

  “What? What is it? What’s happening?” Cinderellis shouted. If only he could see. If only he could hear. If only he could find the apple.

  Marigold made out another word. The monster had said “cat” again, and “apple.” It was saying she better give it the apple or it would take the cat! She jumped up and down with fear and anger. “You can’t have them! Go away!”

  Cinderellis shoved at the visor and banged the helmet. Ping! It sounded like a rivet popping out, but the visor still wouldn’t budge.

  Ghasam wanted to go home. She took two steps forward.

  It’s coming at me! Aaaaa! It’s going to get us! It can have the apple. Marigold rushed to the basket and snatched up an apple. Then she darted forward and placed it on the saddle in front of Cinderellis.

  Apricot hated being so near a horse. He hissed and shot out a paw.

  Ghasam shied back. Cinderellis bounced in the saddle. His helmet snapped back, and he stared at the inside of it where his nose should have been.

  The visor came off and fell onto the platform, but the visor opening was over his forehead, way above his eyes.

  Ghasam shied again. Cinderellis’ legs knocked into her sides. He wanted her to leave. At last. She started down the hill. At the bottom she began to gallop.

  On top of the pyramid Marigold picked up the golden visor. The monster had gone at last.

  But it had three apples.

  Thirteen

  Every day Cinderellis walked to Biddle Castle. He asked all the Royal Dairymaids about his Royal Dairymaid. Nobody knew her. The Royal Dairymaids swore there was no such person.

  What good was it to have the golden apples without his sweet, adorable Royal Dairymaid? No good at all.

  King Humphrey III waited a week for someone to show up with the golden apples. When no one did, he and his Royal Pages went from house to house, looking for the lad whose armor matched the golden visor.

  Marigold came along. She wanted to be there when they found the monster so she could do something. She didn’t know what, but something. She left Apricot home to keep him safe for as long as possible.

  Two weeks after the last day of the contest, the king reached Cinderellis’ farm.

  Ralph was weeding the alfalfa field.

  King Humphrey III didn’t think the fellow looked brave or determined or at all like son-in-law material, but he asked anyway. “Did you climb the glass hill? And do you have a suit of golden armor and three of the princess’ golden apples?” He gestured at Marigold.

  Ralph bowed to the king. “Nope.”

  Burt said the same exact thing when they found him in the barley field.

  “Are you two the only ones on the farm?” Marigold asked.

  “Yup.” Then he remembered. “I mean, nope. We have another brother, Cinderellis, but he didn’t go to the contest.”

  “Where is he?” King Humphrey III asked. Burt pointed to Biddle Mountain.

  Cinderellis was outside his workshop cave, inventing armor improvements, when Ghasam whinnied. He turned and saw the king and his attendants heading up the mountain.

  Cinderellis picked up the pieces of armor and ran into the cave, shooing the horses in ahead of him. Then he rushed to his tomato patch and started weeding.

  The king reached the tomatoes. Cinderellis stood and bowed. Then he stared. The Royal Dairymaid was with him. His heart started racing. What was she doing here?

  It was the nice farm
lad! Marigold smiled in delight.

  Cinderellis wondered why there were jewels on her gown.

  “Did you climb the glass hill?” King Humphrey III asked. “And do you have a suit of golden armor and three of the princess’ golden apples?” He gestured at Marigold.

  “DID SHE SAY SHE’D MARRY HIM? HE PUSHED UP ON THE HELMET. IT WOULDN’T COME OFF. ‘IT’ S STUCK.’”

  She was the princess? “Yes! Yes! I have them! I’ll get them!” He ran into the workshop cave.

  Marigold thought, He’s the monster? How could he be?

  Cinderellis came out of the cave, leading Chasam, Shasam, and Ghasam. In his arms were the golden helmet and the three golden apples. He put everything down and knelt before Marigold. “Will you marry me?”

  He was smiling up at her. He still looked nice. But then why had he wanted Apricot? “Why did you try to take Apricot?”

  What was she talking about? “What apricot?”

  “My Apricot. My cat. I had him with me on top of the glass hill.”

  Cinderellis started laughing. He put on the helmet, jamming it hard over his head. The visor space was over his forehead again. “I can’t see anything,” he said.

  Marigold laughed too. He sounded like the monster. “Take off the helmet,” she said.

  She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear what it was. Did she say she’d marry him? He pushed up on the helmet. It wouldn’t come off. “It’s stuck.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  What did she say?

  Epilogue

  In three days Cinderellis and Marigold were married.

  Ralph and Burt came to the ceremony. As soon as it was over, they smiled their special smile at each other and hurried home to harvest the corn.

  Chasam, Shasam, and Ghasam became Marigold’s pets, just as Apricot was. The only difference was that the horses couldn’t fit on the princess’ lap. Apricot got used to the horses and even became friends with them. He liked Cinderellis too, once he was convinced—after a few misunderstandings—that his dear lass was happy with the lad. And he loved Cinderellis’ first invention as crown prince: cat treats.