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“Yes, how did you sleep?” the queen asked, smiling in a way she thought was benevolent, but that would have made a small child—or even a small adult—cry.
“I thought your stairs were bad, but they were nothing compared to that room! I have never been so horrendously treated in my entire life. If I never set foot in this castle again, it will be too soon!”
The king and queen turned to each other, clasping hands. “We did it!” they exclaimed. “We got a princess with high standards and no musical ability whatsoever!” They turned back to inform the princess that she had passed their test and would marry their son—
Only to find she had already left the throne room. They cringed as she slammed every single door on her way out. It was a very large castle, with forty-one doors between the princess and the outer gate.
It took a very long time.
“Well,” the king said, frowning. “Perhaps she was too sensitive.”
The queen sat on the throne with a huff. The princess was obviously more sensitive than even she was, which made the queen very angry. But the queen couldn’t very well storm out of her own castle and slam all her own doors. It was very unfair. She comforted herself with the thought that at least slamming doors was an unqueenly thing to do. She could injure one of her precious, royal hands.
She would have a servant do it for her!
She rang the bell for a servant, but it took several minutes before one finally appeared. He was out of breath, with his cap nearly falling off. It was Jack, again.
“Why d
id it take you so long? Why wasn’t someone here sooner?”
Jack shrugged. “A few servants didn’t come in today. We’re all doing double duty. The head maid is mucking the stables, the butler is weeding the garden, and the cook is cleaning toilets.”
“The cook is cleaning toilets?” the king asked, horrified. “Well, have her hands removed before she goes back to cooking for us!”
Jack scratched his head beneath his cap. “You mean have her hands washed?”
“No! I mean have her hands removed. I won’t have hands that touch the toilets touch my food.”
“But … if she doesn’t have any hands, how can she …”
“Enough!” the king roared. “Send for the next princess!”
The queen waved her perfumed handkerchief. “And as soon as you’ve done that, slam every door in the castle!”
The first princess had arrived on a Tuesday, but the second princess acted like a Tuesday. She walked in with an escorting guard on either side of her royal person and looked the king and queen up and down.
“Oh,” she said. “What an … interesting crown.” Even though she was smiling, the way she said interesting felt like being pinched.
The king’s hand darted to his crown, fondling the golden prongs. “It’s an heirloom.”
“Oh,” she said. “So it’s sentimental. That explains why you’d wear something that ugly.” She smiled again, like what she had said was nice. Her face was so blank it was like a mirror, so the king and queen smiled back to reflect her. They were pretty sure she was insulting them, but she said it so sweetly and with such a bland smile it was confusing.
They ate supper with her.
“Is that a painting of the prince?” she asked, looking at the royal portraits glowering in a long line along the wall. The most recent was, in fact, the prince. It had been painted through bars and at a distance, but the painter mostly got his face right. Though the artist had, at the queen’s request, made the prince look haughty and dour instead of clueless and pleasant. And the artist had also given him eyebrows again. Big bushy ones, like two mutant caterpillars. I prefer him without eyebrows.
The queen smiled fondly at the grimacing portrait. “Yes, that is him.”
“Oh,” said the princess. “He has your … nose.” She slid that smile onto the end of the sentence again, but the queen felt the words pinching her.
The queen put her hand over her nose. She had always thought she had a wonderful nose—large and noble, like an eagle. But now she wondered if eagles were not the standard of beauty for women.
The queen excused herself early. She summoned Jack the servant.
“Is her room prepared, the pea in place?” She paced, out of sorts and wishing she could somehow cover up her nose.
“Yes.” Jack shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you would want me to do that to the bed, though.”
