in—each, carrying a tiny, thick mattress and a plush feather bed. I count them—twenty little men in all. One by one, the elves stack the mattresses and feather beds, one upon another, on top of the pea. When the heap gets too high and out of reach, two more elves file in, each holding the end of a wooden ladder. They lean the ladder against the stack of mattresses and feather beds, allowing the remaining elves to climb up and add to the pile. When all is done, the stack of mattresses and featherbeds almost reaches the ceiling.
I steal a glance at Gallant. The impassive expression on his face makes my stomach churn. Is Aurora among the onlookers? Has he made eye contact with her? Damn! I wish I knew what she looked like.
I refocus my attention on the white-gloved pea-bearer, who carefully takes Baby Swan from Charming. Cuddling her in the crook of one arm, he ascends the ladder and places her on top of the twenty-foot high pile of mattresses. The baby wails on the top of her lungs. Everyone’s eyes are pointed up at her.
“A baby’s skin is very delicate,” says The Queen in her booming voice. “We’ll have the results of the test in five minutes.”
Swan continues to wail. Louder and louder. Her scrunched up face turns beet-red. She clenches her little fists as if she wants to fight back. The poor little thing! I hope she doesn’t fall off. Cinderella looks dazed and confused. I have no idea what’s going inside her head. She seems so detached from the baby. As if she’s in another world.
The Queen lumbers over to me. “Well, dear, how does it feel to be an aunt?”
“Great,” I lie. I won’t be one for long. My blood is curdling with the knowledge of Gallant’s affair. My eyes survey the room. So many beautiful princesses. Which one is she?
The Queen glances at Cinderella and huffs. “That girl has no consideration of anyone’s time but her own. She could have at least given me some advance notice that the baby was coming early.” She continues to rant. “You cannot believe what I’ve had to go through. Do you think it’s easy to find a fairy godmother spur of the moment? They were all booked. Every one of them! It’s a good thing I was able to pull a favor. I had to beg Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta to come out of retirement and get their big butts over here. It’s the least they could do for all the money The King and I donate to Faraway.”
She gazes down at her red heart-shaped watch. “They were supposed to be here already,” she pouts. The Queen has no tolerance for lateness. That is why she and perpetually late Cinderella have never really gotten along.
“Time’s up!” roars The Queen. “Bring me the baby.”
The butler climbs back up the ladder and brings Swan to her. The baby is still wailing, her face contorted and scarlet red. The Queen removes the infant’s blanket and gown, draping them over the butler’s arm, and cradles the diaper-clad baby in her ample arms. She peeks inside the diaper. Her lips purse in disgust—I think Swan has pooped—and then she grins. She yanks off the diaper and proudly holds the baby up high so that everyone can see her little wrinkled butt. Smack in the middle of one of her tiny cheeks is a purple bruise the size of pea.
“Our little Swan is indeed a princess!” roars the jubilant Queen. “She felt the pea through all those mattresses and feather beds. Only a real princess would do that. From this day on, she will be officially known as Princess Swan!”
Cheers and applause. King Midas leads a toast for his new granddaughter, Princess Swan. Cinderella, who has retreated to a corner, listlessly raises her cup. The poor girl seems so lost and forgotten. I actually feel sorry for her. Maybe she needs someone to talk to.
A loud thud, accompanied by the sound of a few broken things, stops me dead in my tracks and startles everyone. The Badass Fairies, Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta, have landed. Or should I say crash-landed.
One by
I steal a glance at Gallant. The impassive expression on his face makes my stomach churn. Is Aurora among the onlookers? Has he made eye contact with her? Damn! I wish I knew what she looked like.
I refocus my attention on the white-gloved pea-bearer, who carefully takes Baby Swan from Charming. Cuddling her in the crook of one arm, he ascends the ladder and places her on top of the twenty-foot high pile of mattresses. The baby wails on the top of her lungs. Everyone’s eyes are pointed up at her.
“A baby’s skin is very delicate,” says The Queen in her booming voice. “We’ll have the results of the test in five minutes.”
Swan continues to wail. Louder and louder. Her scrunched up face turns beet-red. She clenches her little fists as if she wants to fight back. The poor little thing! I hope she doesn’t fall off. Cinderella looks dazed and confused. I have no idea what’s going inside her head. She seems so detached from the baby. As if she’s in another world.
The Queen lumbers over to me. “Well, dear, how does it feel to be an aunt?”
“Great,” I lie. I won’t be one for long. My blood is curdling with the knowledge of Gallant’s affair. My eyes survey the room. So many beautiful princesses. Which one is she?
The Queen glances at Cinderella and huffs. “That girl has no consideration of anyone’s time but her own. She could have at least given me some advance notice that the baby was coming early.” She continues to rant. “You cannot believe what I’ve had to go through. Do you think it’s easy to find a fairy godmother spur of the moment? They were all booked. Every one of them! It’s a good thing I was able to pull a favor. I had to beg Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta to come out of retirement and get their big butts over here. It’s the least they could do for all the money The King and I donate to Faraway.”
She gazes down at her red heart-shaped watch. “They were supposed to be here already,” she pouts. The Queen has no tolerance for lateness. That is why she and perpetually late Cinderella have never really gotten along.
“Time’s up!” roars The Queen. “Bring me the baby.”
The butler climbs back up the ladder and brings Swan to her. The baby is still wailing, her face contorted and scarlet red. The Queen removes the infant’s blanket and gown, draping them over the butler’s arm, and cradles the diaper-clad baby in her ample arms. She peeks inside the diaper. Her lips purse in disgust—I think Swan has pooped—and then she grins. She yanks off the diaper and proudly holds the baby up high so that everyone can see her little wrinkled butt. Smack in the middle of one of her tiny cheeks is a purple bruise the size of pea.
“Our little Swan is indeed a princess!” roars the jubilant Queen. “She felt the pea through all those mattresses and feather beds. Only a real princess would do that. From this day on, she will be officially known as Princess Swan!”
Cheers and applause. King Midas leads a toast for his new granddaughter, Princess Swan. Cinderella, who has retreated to a corner, listlessly raises her cup. The poor girl seems so lost and forgotten. I actually feel sorry for her. Maybe she needs someone to talk to.
A loud thud, accompanied by the sound of a few broken things, stops me dead in my tracks and startles everyone. The Badass Fairies, Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta, have landed. Or should I say crash-landed.
One by
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