Read Online Queen Sophie Hartley by Stephanie Greene - Free Book Online Page A

straighter.
    â€œGood. Now, right foot forward . . . that’s right. Have some dignity. Chin held high . . . hands out to the sides holding your magnificent silk gown . . . no smiling, Sophie. The queen doesn’t like it.”
    Sophie frowned obediently.
    â€œYou don’t have to look as if you’re mad at her,” said Dr. Holt. “That’s better. Now, carefully . . . carefully! Back straight . . . Slowly
lower
your body until your left knee almost touches the ground. That’s it. Now hold just a moment, and come back up.”
    Wobbling only the tiniest bit, Sophie made it back up into a standing position.
    â€œNow you’re cooking!” said Dr. Holt. She looked as if she would have jumped up out of her chair if she’d been able to. “It took you long enough, but you look pretty good.”
    Sophie was beaming. “Pretty good” from Dr. Holt was like “Bravo!” from anyone else. She’d done it. It was funny how much more a compliment meant when the person giving it to you was usually a grouch.
    After that, she didn’t want to stop curtsying. The more she practiced, the steadier she got. Her favorite part was the slow dip of her head she had to make when her knee was touching the ground. The tiny nod that said, “Your Majesty.”
    It made Sophie feel elegant. She could
almost hear the queen saying back, “Sophie.”
    She practiced it so many more times that Dr. Holt started to get a little grouchy again, so Sophie went back to gardening. She could hardly wait to get home and practice in front of the mirror. She wasn’t going to tell anyone in her family about it until she could do it perfectly. Especially Nora.
    She would use a book on her head. She’d hate it if her tiara slipped down over her nose in front of the queen.
    Â 
    As soon as she had helped with the dishes after dinner, Sophie ran up to her room and shut the door. She took off her sneakers and put on her velvet shoes and then, because she didn’t own an ermine cloak, slipped her nightgown over her head and tied a towel around her neck before placing the book on her head. But no matter how slowly she moved, the book kept slipping off and thumping on the floor, so Sophie took it off in case the noise made anyone come up to see what she was doing.
    She soon discovered that if she watched
herself in the mirror while she curtsied, she wobbled too much, especially when her knee was near the floor. So she lined her stuffed animals up in a row on her bed and curtsied to them. They didn’t clap or show any signs of appreciation, though, so Sophie began to wish there was someone in her family she could curtsy to without being laughed at.
    When she heard her mother say good night to John in his room across the hall, she knew it was eight o’clock. The Hartley children went to bed at half-hour intervals, starting with Maura, who went at seven-thirty. That meant Sophie had half an hour more to practice before her mother came up to check on her.
    Sophie opened her door a crack to see whether John’s door was still open. It was. The minute he saw her, John scrambled out of bed and scooted over to lie on his stomach next to his door. Sophie often entertained him from her doorway at night when he was supposed to be asleep. He was a very good audience.
    â€œNow, imagine you’re the queen,” Sophie instructed him.
    â€œBoys can’t be the queen,” said John.
    â€œThe king, then.”
    â€œOff with her head!” John shouted in a loud whisper, waving his arm as if he were brandishing a sword.
    â€œJohn ...”
    John quieted down and watched patiently while Sophie did a whole string of curtsies. Then he said, “It’s getting a little boring,” so she got a belt from her drawer and looped it around a stuffed sheep on her bed and dragged it behind her as she marched around her room, quietly singing
Mary Had a