The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (27 page)

She laughed.

Dame Cloris's snore changed pitch. She dreamed there was a commotion at the door of the Royal Throne Room.

Lark brushed the water out of her eyes. “I missed you,” she said. “I tried to go to your bakery, but nobody would let me.”

She did try! “I went to the castle to find you.”

“You did?”

Dame Cloris whimpered. In her dream, seven commoners strode into the throne room.

Robin said, “But I couldn't get to you. The guards kept stopping me.” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you. Will you marry me?”

Robin knelt in the water. “Yes, I'll marry you. I'm honored. I'm . . .” He leaned over to kiss her hand.

In the dream the commoners chanted, “No countesses for governesses! No governesses for countesses!” Dame Cloris woke up. She opened her eyes and saw Lark and Robin in the water. She screamed.

Seven

A
Royal Drawbridge Guard, his sword drawn, raced to Dame Cloris's aid.

Robin surged out of the stream and ran, calling behind him, “I love you.”

Lark called back, “I love you. Remember, we're betrothed.”

Dame Cloris fainted. The guard picked her up along with Lark's slippers and hose. He escorted Lark to the Royal Throne Room, where she stood in her bare feet, dripping on the Royal Tile Floor. He placed Dame Cloris on a chair. She revived and told the king what she'd witnessed.

King Harrumphrey yelled
“Harrumph!”
for a full five minutes. Lark just looked defiant.

Finally, his anger collapsed. “Larkie, why do you want to harrumphy him?”

“He makes me laugh.” And he treated her like she was an ordinary person. And she loved to be with him.

The king thought about it. There was nothing wrong with laughter. But laughing with a commoner was vulgar. Laughing with a prince was excellent.

Hmm . . . He summoned the Royal Chief Scribe.

“We wish to harrumph a proclamation.”

The scribe unrolled a scroll and dipped her pen in ink.

“Hear harrumph. Hear harrumph.”

Hear ye. Hear ye,
the scribe wrote.

“Insofar and inasharrumph that we have a harrumphter . . .”

Insofar and inasmuch as we have a scepter . . .

“Not this harrumphter.” The king raised his scepter. “That harrumphter.” He pointed at Lark.

. . . daughter . . .

King Harrumphrey continued.

Lark listened, horror-struck.

“And said harrumphter, Princess Harrumph, is old harrumph to marry—”

“Father!”

He ignored her and went on.

The scribe wrote, . . .
and said daughter, Princess Lark, is old enough to marry, then let it be known that we will bestow her hand upon any . . .
She was stuck again. She thought for a moment and wrote,
. . . man who. . . .

King Harrumphrey tapped the scroll. “Not that ‘any harrumph.'”

The scribe wrote
noble
in tiny letters to the left of
man
.

The king was getting annoyed. “Not ‘any harrumphman.' ‘Any harrumph.'”

“He means ‘any baker's son,'” Lark said.

King Harrumphrey frowned, and the scribe knew better than to write
baker's son
.

The king roared, “Harrumph! Any prince who can make said princess harrumph.”

. . . any prince who can make said princess harrumph.
The scribe crossed out
harrumph
. Happy! Must be. She wrote,
happy
.

“Not ‘harrumphy.'” King Harrumphrey paused. He wanted Lark to be happy. And she would be. The proclamation would make sure of it. “Not ‘harrumphy.' ‘Harrumph.'”

In turn the scribe tried
wise, good at checkers, able to speak six languages, say harrumph more often, live a long time
. The scroll was getting messy, and she was going to have to copy it all over, if she ever figured out what it was supposed to say.

At last, the king shook his belly and said, “Har har har harrumph.”

She got it.

Hear ye. Hear ye. Insofar and inasmuch as we have a daughter, and said daughter, Princess Lark, is old enough to marry, then let it be known that we will bestow her hand upon any prince who can make said princess laugh.

After he finished chopping wood, Robin returned to the bakery and started kneading again. He felt so joyful that new jokes were coming to him as fast as he could think.

Nat said, “Father has splenthrillous news, Robin.”

“T
HE KING ROARED
, ‘H
ARRUMPH
!'”

Today's a good day for good news, Robin thought, smiling.

Jake cleared his throat and announced that Nat, Matt, and Robin would wed Holly, Molly, and Golly in two weeks. He added, “From then on,

          
“Nat and Matt will roll dough for the pie tin,

          
While Robin fluffs up pillows at the hotel.”

Robin's jokes stopped coming, and he almost screamed. Golly was the last person he wanted for a wife. She didn't have a bit of Lark's sweetness, Lark's sense of humor, Lark's complete lovableness.

He took a deep breath. He was going to marry Lark. She'd tell her father about their betrothal, and then she'd come to him or send for him, or whatever royalty would do.

But what if the king didn't want him to marry her?

Well, maybe he wouldn't at first. But she'd persuade him. She'd tell him how much they loved each other. He'd understand.

Eight

L
ark couldn't sleep all night. What if a real prince made her laugh? What if he told a joke almost as good as one of Robin's, and she laughed before she caught herself? She wouldn't love the prince, but she'd be stuck with him.

She worried about it till dawn. Finally she decided that she had to make herself sad, so sad there'd be no chance of a laugh, no matter what any ridiculous prince said.

While she dressed, she thought of the calamities that befell people every day. They stubbed their toes, lost their favorite hat feathers, put spoiled raspberries into their mouths, were stung by bees, misspelled words, dropped their candy in the dirt. The list was endless.

A tear trickled down her cheek.

While she waited for the first prince to come, she read tragedies in the Royal Library. Within a few days she was weeping steadily. She cried herself to sleep at night and woke up crying in the morning.

King Harrumphrey hated to see her cry. It made him feel like crying too. He would have done almost anything to make his Larkie happy. Anything but let her marry a commoner.

A week before Robin's wedding to Golly, the first prince arrived at Biddle Castle. He was taken to the Royal Tournament Arena to perform before an audience of Lark, King Harrumphrey, Dame Cloris, the Royal Councillors, and any Royal Nobles who wanted to come. No commoners allowed.

The prince juggled cheeses while a mouse stood on his head. The councillors and the courtiers and the king laughed and slapped their knees. Lark wept.

In the next five days, more princes came and performed. A prince told shepherd jokes. His best joke was
Why is a bandit like a shepherd's staff?
The punch line was
They're both crooks
. The audience hooted with laughter. Lark rolled her eyes and wished for Robin. Then she wept.

A prince talked to his foot and pretended it was answering him. Lark recited under her breath, “Suffering, tribulation, death, drought, plague . . .” She wept.

After each performance she asked for permission to marry Robin, but the king always harrumphed no.

Two days remained before the wedding. Robin had heard nothing from Lark, and he was desperate to know what had happened. While he kneaded bread, he worried that the king had refused to let her marry him. He also feared she had decided his jokes weren't any good and had changed her mind about loving him.

“T
HE PRINCE JUGGLED CHEESES WHILE A MOUSE STOOD ON HIS HEAD
.”

Golly, standing at his elbow, talked about going to Ooth Town for their honeymoon to see the roundest clock in Biddle. Then she left to try on her wedding dress.

Someone in the bakery said the word
princess
.

Robin's head shot up. He stopped kneading.

“What seems to be the princess's troublicament?” Nat asked the schoolteacher.

“She never stops crying. Give me six scones.”

Oh, no! Robin tried not to shout. “Why is she crying?”

“I'm not sure, but the king is going to marry her off to the first person who makes her laugh.” The schoolteacher didn't know the person had to be a prince. “The contest is being held in the tournament arena.”

Robin knocked over the kneading table and rushed out of the bakery. He had to think.

Back inside, Matt said, “The lad is flipliddified and madaddlated.”

Robin paced up and down in the bakery yard. When the schoolteacher had said that Lark was weeping, Robin had thought it meant the king had refused to let them marry. And then, for one glorious moment, when the schoolteacher had described the contest, he'd thought it was for him, that it was Lark's way of bringing them together. But if it was, then why was she crying?

Something terrible must have happened.

He started striding to the castle. He'd tell the guards he wanted to compete in the contest, so they'd let him in. He had to find out what was going on, although he wouldn't be able to compete. He was much too upset to make up jokes.

But the Royal Drawbridge Guard wouldn't let him pass. The guard didn't even let him say what he was there for.

Robin was beside himself. He'd have to marry Golly, or he'd have to run away, far from Lark. Either way, he'd lose his love. On his way home, he broke down and cried.

Golly thought a weeping Robin was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Jake gave her towels to dry off the dough as Robin kneaded it. She wiped and laughed for an hour or two. Then she went back to the Sleep In, to monogram an extra dozen handkerchiefs for her trousseau.

Through his tears Robin watched her go. He wished Golly were a princess and that Lark were an innkeeper's daughter. He wished the guard had let him in. He wished Lark were here right this second. He wished.

Nine

L
ate that night the fairy Ethelinda flew over Biddle. She'd been flying for seven years, ever since she'd left the court of Anura, the fairy queen. Anura had scolded her for not giving a single reward or punishment to a human in centuries. Ethelinda had explained that she was afraid to because she'd bungled it the last time.

“Conquer your fear!” Anura had commanded. “Mingle with humans. Reward and punish. Do not disobey me!”

Ethelinda hadn't obeyed, but she hadn't disobeyed either. She'd just stayed in the air. But now she had to land. Seven years of flying were too much, even for a fairy. She was exhausted. She looked for a secluded spot where humans were unlikely to come. Ah. There.

She landed in a clearing in Snoakes Forest and stretched out under a pine tree, where she fell fast asleep.

The next morning, Jake packed a breakfast for Nat and sent him off early to chop wood. There was a lot to do today, and he wanted his two smart sons there to help him. He had to bake the usual quantities of bread, muffins, and scones, and he had to make the wedding cake for tomorrow.

Nat entered Snoakes Forest and went straight to the clearing where Ethelinda lay sleeping.

His footsteps woke her. She jumped up and took the shape of an old woman. She hoped whoever was coming wouldn't do anything that required a reward or a punishment.

Nat entered the clearing. Ethelinda frowned at his basket, hoping he didn't have food in there. “Good day,” she said in a voice that wavered.

“Good day.” Nat smiled and bowed. He opened the basket and took out a jug of blackberry juice, three hard-boiled partridge eggs, and two fig-and-almond scones.