The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (28 page)

The dreaded meal! Ethelinda thought. The fairy rules were very clear. She had to ask the human to share. If he did share, she had to reward him. If he did not, she had to punish him.

“Kind sir,” she said, “would you share your victuals with me?”

Nat knew Jake's rule. “No, Mistress. I am enormvastically sorry, but our family doesn't give our edibles or sippables to anyone.”

She had to punish him! “So be it,” she said. So be what? What should she do? She was shaking like a leaf.

Nat ate his breakfast.

Ethelinda thought of making him choke on a bone. But eggs and scones don't have bones. She didn't want to make snakes and insects come out of his mouth, because that hadn't been a great success the last time.

Nat patted his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “Please excusition me. Time to get to work.” He picked up his ax and went to an oak tree.

She got it! She waved her wand, which was invisible because of her disguise.

Nat swung the ax. It slammed into the air six inches from the tree and stopped. It wouldn't go an inch closer no matter how hard he pushed.

“Huh? What—” He swung again. The ax stopped again.

He examined the ax. The blade was as sharpcuttable as ever. Something was protecting the tree. He reached out, expecting the something to stop his hand. But nothing did. He swung again. The ax slammed into the air and stopped again.

He frowned at the old lady. Did she cause this?

But she was leaning back against an elm tree with her eyes closed. Besides, what could she have done?

It must have been that tree. He went to a pine tree and swung the ax. It stopped six inches from the bark.

He ran from tree to tree, trying to chop down one after another. But he couldn't, not a single one. He screamed, not an invented word, not a word at all, only a scream. He ran out of the clearing, still screaming.

Ethelinda resumed her fairy shape. She'd done it. Anura should be satisfied. Ethelinda flapped her wings—and barely got off the ground. She was still exhausted. She landed in a heap and stayed there.

When Nat got home from the forest, he was muttering to himself and swinging the ax wildly. Matt feared that he might have become as goofdoltish as Robin, and Jake agreed. They pinned Nat to the ground and took the ax.

Robin didn't notice. Tomorrow was the wedding. It would be the end of everything.

Matt packed a brunch. If Nat couldn't cut down a tree, he, Matt, certainly would be able to. Hadn't he been axchopperizing trees since he was seven years old? He set off while Jake mixed batter for three dozen muffin tins.

As soon as Ethelinda heard Matt coming, she turned herself back into the old lady. When he too refused to share his meal, she punished him exactly as she'd punished Nat.

Jake became seriously worried when Matt returned in the same state as Nat. Jake thought,

          
Now all my sons have lost their wits,

          
And Nat and Matt are having conniptions.

Jake couldn't go to the forest himself. He had twenty-seven loaves of bread in the oven plus all those muffins and no sane son to watch them. Robin would have to go. Jake packed a lunch and put the ax in Robin's hand. He watched Robin go and then got to work on the wedding cake.

Ethelinda was delighted to see Robin. This punishment was terrific. She couldn't wait to use it again.

Robin put down his basket. It didn't occur to him to eat. He wasn't thinking at all. His mind was just bleating
Lark! Lark!
again and again. He staggered to a maple tree and raised his ax.

“Wait, kind sir!” Ethelinda went to him and stopped his hand. “Don't you want your lunch?”

What was she saying? Something about his lunch? He mumbled, “Don't want it.”

“Oh, kind sir, may I have some?”

Lark! Lark!
He raised the ax again.

“Kind sir!” Ethelinda shrieked. She grabbed the ax and wrestled it away from Robin. She faced him, panting. “May I eat some of your lunch?”

Lark! Lark!
“Go ahead.”

Go ahead?

Oh no! She handed the ax back to him. Now she had to reward him, which was where she'd made her biggest mistake the last time.

She opened his basket and took out a wedge of Snetter cheese and a poppy-seed roll. What could she give him? She couldn't think of a single foolproof reward.

Robin began to chop down the maple.

Then Ethelinda remembered a reward the fairy queen, Anura, had told her about. It was a bit odd, but Anura said she'd used it hundreds of times and it had always worked.

Robin raised the ax again. One more chop and the maple would go over.

Ethelinda raised her invisible wand.

Robin swung the ax.

Ethelinda waved the wand.

The tree went over.

Honk!
A golden goose stood on the stump, ruffling her golden feathers.

“H
ONK
!”

Ten

R
obin didn't notice the goose. He began to hack off the maple's branches.

“Oh,” Ethelinda said, “what a beautiful golden goose!”

Robin felt a stab of exasperation. “You can have her.”

Ethelinda stared in shock at him. And saw how unhappy he looked. “Why, what's the trouble, kind sir?”

He shook his head and chopped the maple into logs.

She made her voice sympathetic and comforting. “You can tell me. I'll understand.”

The sweetness of her voice reached him. He looked up. Ethelinda made her expression kindly and patient.

He found himself talking. “I love Princess Lark and I hate . . .” He told the whole story. It was a relief to tell someone.

Ethelinda wasn't sure what good the goose would do, but she had faith in Anura. “Pick up the goose,” she said. “Take her to the castle.”

“I won't be able to get past the guards.” He didn't move.

“Pick up the goose!”
Ethelinda bellowed.

He began to pick up the logs.

“With that goose, no one will stop you.” Ethelinda didn't know if this was true, but she'd make it true.

He dropped the logs and picked up the goose.

Honk!

He didn't believe no one would stop him, but he'd try anyway.

Ethelinda asked where he was going, just to make sure.

“To the princess.”

At last. “The goose is sticky, so you may need these words:
Loose, goose.
Don't forget them.”

The goose was sticky? What did that mean? Robin picked up a fallen leaf and touched it to the goose's feathers. It stuck. He said, “Loose, goose.” The leaf fluttered to the ground.

Hmm. He had an idea. He left the clearing, walking fast.

Ethelinda brushed grass off her skirts. She felt rested, refreshed. She hurried after Robin. “I'll come too, kind sir. I may be able to help if anything goes wrong.”

When he got near the Sleep In, Robin slowed to a saunter. If Golly didn't see him, he'd bang on the door. If he had to, he'd shove the goose up against her.

Upstairs in the inn, Golly was embroidering and looking out the window. Huh! she thought. There was Robin, with a goose in his arms and an old woman at his side. Golly squinted. What a fine golden goose. She frowned. Why wasn't he bringing the goose to her?

Because he was her dim-witted dearie. She laughed. “Look!”

Holly and Molly came to the window.

“We could cook the goose and share the feathers,” Golly said.

The three of them ran downstairs and crowded out of the inn. Robin pretended not to see them and hurried off again.

“Dearie,” Golly called, laughing. “Wait for me.”

He kept going. They ran after him. Golly reached him first. She grabbed the goose's tail and pulled.

Honk!

Golly laughed. “Dearie!”

Robin heard her, but he didn't turn around. He hoped Holly and Molly would touch the goose too, and he hoped they'd stick too. Otherwise Golly had better look very funny, because she was all he'd have to make Lark laugh.

The goose pecked Golly's arm.

Yow!
Golly tried to let go, but she couldn't. She stopped laughing. She was beginning to be annoyed.

Molly had almost reached the goose.

Golly yelled, “Don't touch the—”

“What?” Molly grasped Golly's elbow and didn't touch the goose.

“I'm stuck. Pull me off.”

Molly pulled.

Honk!

But Golly stayed stuck.

“Help me, Holly!” Molly called, and held out her hand. “Pull!”

Holly took the hand and pulled.

Honk!

But Golly stayed stuck.

The three of them trotted after the goose. In a few minutes, Molly got tired. “I'm going home.” She tried to let go of Golly's elbow. She yanked and tugged.

Honk!

She was stuck.

Holly tried to let go of Molly's hand, but she was stuck too.

Eleven

H
mm . . . Robin thought, glancing back. Whoever touches the goose becomes sticky. And the next person and the next become sticky too! He wondered how long a chain he could make. They did look funny, the three of them.

Golly was angry. “Dearie, stop this instant!”

Ethelinda didn't care a bit for Golly. Now
there
was a human who could use punishing.

Robin saw a mule and wagon in the distance, coming back from Biddle Castle.

It was the Snettering-on-Snoakes chandler. He wondered where Robin was going with that goose and why Golly, Holly, and Molly were traipsing after him. And who was the old lady?

“Whoa, Jenny,” he called to his mule.

Holly, Molly, and Golly yelled to the chandler to set them loose. When he understood what they wanted, he tied a rope to Jenny's harness and threw the rope over Holly.

Oh, no! Robin thought. The goose can't be stronger than a mule.

“Pull, Jenny. Pull.”

Jenny tried, but she couldn't. She got pulled instead.

The goose
is
stronger! Robin thought.

The chandler tried to jump down from his cart to see what was wrong, but he couldn't. He was stuck to his bench.

Robin glanced back and almost laughed. The beginning of a joke came to him. Why does a king always seem glum? But he was still too upset to think of the punch line.

The chandler and his cart and mule followed Robin and the golden goose. Holly and Molly kept hollering that Jenny should try harder. Golly kept screaming at Robin to stop, to listen, to behave himself . . . dearie.

The Royal Drawbridge Guard saw a strange parade, heading for Biddle Castle. He frowned. There was the chandler. But the chandler had left only a little while ago. Who were the others with him?

The chandler looked flustered. Could be trouble. The guard got his pike ready.

They came closer. The guard wondered why the chandler and his mule and wagon and three wenches were following a lad with a golden goose. Why were the wenches shouting? Why did the mule look so confused? And who was the old lady?

Then the guard understood. The lad was really a prince! A contestant! The guard started laughing and put down his pike. This was so funny. It was sure to win. He bowed as Robin approached.

Robin thought, He's letting me in! The old lady is right! Maybe he'd like to come along too. He called, “Help yourself to a feather.”

The guard lunged at the goose.

Honk!

The guard was stuck.

Robin was going by the Royal Kitchen Door just as the Royal Third Assistant Cook stepped outside.

My, the cook thought, that's a fine pair of goose feet, perfect for pickling. He reached out and grabbed the goose's right foot.

Honk!

In the Royal Tournament Arena Lark wept on. So far seventy-five princes had tried to make her laugh. The king and the Royal Nobles were merrier than ever before. But Lark's eyes hurt from crying so much. Two Royal Laundresses worked day and night to keep her in fresh hankies.

Right now a prince was saying “Fiffifferall” over and over. At first no one had laughed, but after a few minutes a Royal Baroness had begun to giggle, and then the Royal Chief Councillor had joined in, and soon everyone was laughing heartily.

Except Lark, of course.

A commotion at the arena's entrance drowned out the prince. Heads turned. Lark didn't look up.

Robin, Holly, Molly, Golly, the Royal Drawbridge Guard, and the Royal Third Assistant Cook jogged into the arena. Behind them, the chandler, Jenny, and the cart clattered along. Ethelinda skipped and leaped and waved her arms in the air, to add to the silliness.

Robin saw Lark. There she was. Weeping! Her sweet face was unutterably sad. She was wiping her eyes and staring at her lap. She hadn't even seen him.

He broke into a run.
Lark! Oh, Lark!

Twelve

K
ing Harrumphrey and the courtiers saw the goose parade and roared with laughter. Even the prince saying “Fiffifferall” laughed. The Earl of Pildenue fell out of his seat, laughing. Dame Cloris woke up and started laughing. King Harrumphrey rocked back and forth on his throne.