years—he had been the one, almost sixteen years before, to deliver the announcements of the birth of the princess, and five years before that, the marriage of the king and queen—did not recognize her in her peasant garb. He was old, and his eyesight was poor. He simply squinted into the schoolhouse, glanced around at the pupils all working at their desks, and then hobbled forward with his cane to deliver the rolled scroll to the schoolmaster.
"From the castle," he said abruptly. There was no reason to add the word "sir" to a lowly village schoolmaster. And, too, he was tired. He had delivered so many announcements over so many years, and now suffered from boredom, arthritis, and a trick knee. He also needed spectacles.
"Thank you," the schoolmaster said, in some surprise, but when he looked up, the message boy had already turned and hobbled out. He had several more deliveries to make and was eager to finish.
"I wonder what this could be!"
The pupils all called out guesses. "Maybe a notice that you forgot to pay yer rent!" called Fred.
"No, part of my salary for being schoolmaster is the room where I live," the schoolmaster explained.
"Announcement of a traveling circus comin' around?" suggested Nell hopefully, for there had been one once, and she remembered all of it: the ringmaster in a bright red costume with gold buttons, a monkey wearing a hat, and a white dog that danced.
"Usually," the schoolmaster reminded them, fingering the rolled message, "a traveling circus is announced by jesters who come cartwheeling through the village the day before, selling tickets."
"Maybe it's an order to witness a whipping!" was Mick's hope, for he was interested in violence, always, so long as he was not on the receiving end. There had not been a public whipping in a long time, not since the day a very bad-tempered village woman had smashed all of her neighbor's best pots in a fit of anger after an argument about who made the best stew. It hadn't been much of a whipping, either, just a few taps to remind her to hold her temper in check.
The little orphan, Liz, scratched her mosquito bite, smeared now with lotion that the princess had provided. She leaned forward and tried to peer at the mysterious paper. Then she closed her eyes tight and held her breath, the ritual for making a wish. "Oh, I do hope a circus," she whispered. "I never once seen one."
"It's an invitation," the princess said under her breath. She watched while the schoolmaster unrolled the message.
Birthday Banquet and Ball!
For the Princess Patricia Priscilla!
***
Saturday Night at the Castle
Food • gifts • Music • Suitors
Villagers Welcome!
(Please Bathe)
The schoolmaster held it up so that the children could see, and they called out the words.
"What's a suitor, sir?"
The schoolmaster explained the concept of suitors, and they all wrinkled their noses.
"What's gifts?" asked Liz.
So he explained gifts. None of the pupils had ever received a gift. Their eyes grew wide. "Blimey," said Nell. "They gives you sumpthin'? And you don't got to work for it?"
"I expect it will be just a small gift," the princess said. "I mean, because we're poor miserable peasants and all. Perhaps just a small candy, or a toy?"
"A candy? A toy? " the children shouted.
"What's a toy?" asked little Liz.
"When's Saturday?" asked Ben, who could never remember such things.
"Day after tomorrow!" everyone cried out in delight. "Day after tomorrow!"
***
The princess lingered after school was dismissed for the day. She had begun to dread returning to the lonely castle, and so she volunteered to sweep the floor and arrange the books and papers in order. Tidying things, she glanced surreptitiously at the schoolmaster, who sat at his desk, correcting the spelling tests they had done that morning.
He looked up at her. "Will you be attending the Birthday Ball, Pat?" he asked.
She sighed. She knew that Saturday would mean the end of her schoolhouse life, the end of her days posing
"From the castle," he said abruptly. There was no reason to add the word "sir" to a lowly village schoolmaster. And, too, he was tired. He had delivered so many announcements over so many years, and now suffered from boredom, arthritis, and a trick knee. He also needed spectacles.
"Thank you," the schoolmaster said, in some surprise, but when he looked up, the message boy had already turned and hobbled out. He had several more deliveries to make and was eager to finish.
"I wonder what this could be!"
The pupils all called out guesses. "Maybe a notice that you forgot to pay yer rent!" called Fred.
"No, part of my salary for being schoolmaster is the room where I live," the schoolmaster explained.
"Announcement of a traveling circus comin' around?" suggested Nell hopefully, for there had been one once, and she remembered all of it: the ringmaster in a bright red costume with gold buttons, a monkey wearing a hat, and a white dog that danced.
"Usually," the schoolmaster reminded them, fingering the rolled message, "a traveling circus is announced by jesters who come cartwheeling through the village the day before, selling tickets."
"Maybe it's an order to witness a whipping!" was Mick's hope, for he was interested in violence, always, so long as he was not on the receiving end. There had not been a public whipping in a long time, not since the day a very bad-tempered village woman had smashed all of her neighbor's best pots in a fit of anger after an argument about who made the best stew. It hadn't been much of a whipping, either, just a few taps to remind her to hold her temper in check.
The little orphan, Liz, scratched her mosquito bite, smeared now with lotion that the princess had provided. She leaned forward and tried to peer at the mysterious paper. Then she closed her eyes tight and held her breath, the ritual for making a wish. "Oh, I do hope a circus," she whispered. "I never once seen one."
"It's an invitation," the princess said under her breath. She watched while the schoolmaster unrolled the message.
Birthday Banquet and Ball!
For the Princess Patricia Priscilla!
***
Saturday Night at the Castle
Food • gifts • Music • Suitors
Villagers Welcome!
(Please Bathe)
The schoolmaster held it up so that the children could see, and they called out the words.
"What's a suitor, sir?"
The schoolmaster explained the concept of suitors, and they all wrinkled their noses.
"What's gifts?" asked Liz.
So he explained gifts. None of the pupils had ever received a gift. Their eyes grew wide. "Blimey," said Nell. "They gives you sumpthin'? And you don't got to work for it?"
"I expect it will be just a small gift," the princess said. "I mean, because we're poor miserable peasants and all. Perhaps just a small candy, or a toy?"
"A candy? A toy? " the children shouted.
"What's a toy?" asked little Liz.
"When's Saturday?" asked Ben, who could never remember such things.
"Day after tomorrow!" everyone cried out in delight. "Day after tomorrow!"
***
The princess lingered after school was dismissed for the day. She had begun to dread returning to the lonely castle, and so she volunteered to sweep the floor and arrange the books and papers in order. Tidying things, she glanced surreptitiously at the schoolmaster, who sat at his desk, correcting the spelling tests they had done that morning.
He looked up at her. "Will you be attending the Birthday Ball, Pat?" he asked.
She sighed. She knew that Saturday would mean the end of her schoolhouse life, the end of her days posing
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