Read Online A Frog In Her Pocket (TrainReads) by Phoebe Walsh - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phoebe Walsh
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his breath tickled her cheek. He closed his eyes and murmured soft words; the warmth of his lips enveloped hers.
A flash tore through the room turning everything white. Miranda screamed.
And on her chest sat a cold, wet, and very green frog. She screamed again and sat up.
The frog sailed through the air onto the ground, where it sat, eyes roving and throat sac vibrating.
Black spots dancing before her eyes , Miranda climbed from the bed. George, where was George?
"Ribbit," said the frog.
Then she realised. Oh no, this was meant to happen the other way around. A princess kisses a frog and it turns into a prince.
"Ribbit," said the frog. It took a giant leap towards the dressing table chair, jumped onto the table, onto the windowsill . . .
Mirand a gasped. "Oh, no, you don't!" She dived forward and, however much she hated frogs, she clamped her hand around it while slamming down the window with the other hand.
"Ribbit," said George the frog, and if frogs can look put-out, he did.
Oh God, what now?
Kiss it , said a voice in her head.
"But I just did."
Frogs turn into princes when a princess kisses them. That's what the fairytale says.
"Fair enough." It was worth a try.
Miranda scrunched up her face and gave a tiny peck on the frog 's cold back.
George the frog stayed green, wet and very froggy.
As Miranda slumped on the bed it hit her. Stupid. How could she forget the simplest things about fairytales? In the stories, the frog was kissed by a beautiful princess. And she might be a princess, but she wasn't beautiful by anyone's standards.
* * *
Before everyone got up the next morning, Miranda donned a hooded cloak, stuffed George in the pocket and left the palace through the servants' entrance. In the marketplace, she bought the biggest, frilliest dress she could find, and the shoes with the highest heels. She also bought enough face creams, hair tonics, hair removers and freckle bleachers to fill a wheelbarrow.
All day, she spent in George 's room washing, combing and squishing her odd body into even odder shapes.
When the maid called for dinner, she was just putting the finishing touches to a big elaborate bun which sat on top of her head like a beehive. No time to test her beauty on George, she stuffed him in the pocket of her frilly dress. By the time she had stumbled three floors down the marble staircase to the dining room, she felt like a badly stuffed sausage.
The Queen merely raised her eyebrows and resumed her talk with Duchess Georgina.
The King said, "Where is my son?"
Miranda blushed. "He . . . he's got a sore back." All the male guests around the table burst out in laughter; Adelie stuck her nose in the air and George the frog wriggled in Miranda's pocket.
Her head held high, but feeling close to tears, Miranda stumbled to the table. The butler pulled back her chair and when she sat down Adelie said, 'Why are you dressed up like that? You look like a hippopotamus in fancy dress. '
Tears in her eyes, Miranda got up from the table. She almost crashed into a servant at the door. Up the stairs she ran, and into the royal bedroom. The straps of her shoes cut into her feet. Her elaborate bun had half-slid down her head, and one of her earrings was all tangled up. Yet she pushed up her hair, stumbled towards the mirror and took George out of her pocket. Make-up running down her face, she declared, "I think I'm beautiful." And she kissed George's cold and wet back.
George didn 't agree. He stayed as he was, cold, green and very froggy.
Mira nda threw him down on the bed. "I hate you." And she spent a long time glaring at him. But she discovered frogs have much greater patience than princesses. And hating him was not going to turn him back into a prince. Eventually she would run out of excuses to tell her in-laws.
And she got another idea. If she needed a beautiful princess, she would get a beautiful princess.
She snatched George from the bed and jammed him in her
A flash tore through the room turning everything white. Miranda screamed.
And on her chest sat a cold, wet, and very green frog. She screamed again and sat up.
The frog sailed through the air onto the ground, where it sat, eyes roving and throat sac vibrating.
Black spots dancing before her eyes , Miranda climbed from the bed. George, where was George?
"Ribbit," said the frog.
Then she realised. Oh no, this was meant to happen the other way around. A princess kisses a frog and it turns into a prince.
"Ribbit," said the frog. It took a giant leap towards the dressing table chair, jumped onto the table, onto the windowsill . . .
Mirand a gasped. "Oh, no, you don't!" She dived forward and, however much she hated frogs, she clamped her hand around it while slamming down the window with the other hand.
"Ribbit," said George the frog, and if frogs can look put-out, he did.
Oh God, what now?
Kiss it , said a voice in her head.
"But I just did."
Frogs turn into princes when a princess kisses them. That's what the fairytale says.
"Fair enough." It was worth a try.
Miranda scrunched up her face and gave a tiny peck on the frog 's cold back.
George the frog stayed green, wet and very froggy.
As Miranda slumped on the bed it hit her. Stupid. How could she forget the simplest things about fairytales? In the stories, the frog was kissed by a beautiful princess. And she might be a princess, but she wasn't beautiful by anyone's standards.
* * *
Before everyone got up the next morning, Miranda donned a hooded cloak, stuffed George in the pocket and left the palace through the servants' entrance. In the marketplace, she bought the biggest, frilliest dress she could find, and the shoes with the highest heels. She also bought enough face creams, hair tonics, hair removers and freckle bleachers to fill a wheelbarrow.
All day, she spent in George 's room washing, combing and squishing her odd body into even odder shapes.
When the maid called for dinner, she was just putting the finishing touches to a big elaborate bun which sat on top of her head like a beehive. No time to test her beauty on George, she stuffed him in the pocket of her frilly dress. By the time she had stumbled three floors down the marble staircase to the dining room, she felt like a badly stuffed sausage.
The Queen merely raised her eyebrows and resumed her talk with Duchess Georgina.
The King said, "Where is my son?"
Miranda blushed. "He . . . he's got a sore back." All the male guests around the table burst out in laughter; Adelie stuck her nose in the air and George the frog wriggled in Miranda's pocket.
Her head held high, but feeling close to tears, Miranda stumbled to the table. The butler pulled back her chair and when she sat down Adelie said, 'Why are you dressed up like that? You look like a hippopotamus in fancy dress. '
Tears in her eyes, Miranda got up from the table. She almost crashed into a servant at the door. Up the stairs she ran, and into the royal bedroom. The straps of her shoes cut into her feet. Her elaborate bun had half-slid down her head, and one of her earrings was all tangled up. Yet she pushed up her hair, stumbled towards the mirror and took George out of her pocket. Make-up running down her face, she declared, "I think I'm beautiful." And she kissed George's cold and wet back.
George didn 't agree. He stayed as he was, cold, green and very froggy.
Mira nda threw him down on the bed. "I hate you." And she spent a long time glaring at him. But she discovered frogs have much greater patience than princesses. And hating him was not going to turn him back into a prince. Eventually she would run out of excuses to tell her in-laws.
And she got another idea. If she needed a beautiful princess, she would get a beautiful princess.
She snatched George from the bed and jammed him in her
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