The Perfectly Proper Prince (2 page)

“M
AY
I
BE EXCUSED FOR A FEW MINUTES?”
Lysandra asked Gabriella.

Gabriella frowned. “But you only just got here.”

“Please? I'll only be gone a little while.”

“Well, all right,” Gabriella said with a sigh.

“Thanks.” Lysandra ran down the corridor to her mother's chamber. Queen Rowena was in her sitting room, reading a book of poetry.
Her auburn hair flowed long and shiny over the shoulders of her light green gown.

“May I place a sign in front of the crystal ball?” Lysandra asked breathlessly.

Her mother closed her book. “What kind of a sign, dear?”

“A sign announcing a talent show,” Lysandra said, crossing her fingers behind her back. Truthfully, she wasn't interested in putting on a show. It was the
auditions
she was after. She hoped they would help her find others like herself—and perhaps even help her uncover some princesses with talents that could be useful during an adventure.

“What an interesting idea,” said her mother. “And who would you invite?”

“Princesses around my age,” Lysandra said.

Queen Rowena smiled. “Sounds like fun, but maybe you'd better ask your father. Make sure it's okay with him.”

“All right.” Dropping a quick curtsy, Lysandra left in search of her father. After running up and down several corridors, she finally found him having a snack in his library. King Sheldon II had pastry crumbs in his beard, but Lysandra didn't mention it.

He smiled at her. “How's my favorite younger daughter?”

Lysandra grinned. “I'm your
only
younger daughter, and I'm fine.” Then she explained about her talent show idea. “So is it all right with you?” she asked when she'd finished.

The king wrinkled his brow. “Sounds to me like something you should ask your mother.”

Lysandra sighed. You'd think a king or queen would be good at making decisions. Yet her parents could never seem to give her a straight answer when she needed one. “If it's okay with you, it's okay with her,” she said.

“If it's okay with her, it's okay with me,” the king replied.

Lysandra decided to take that as a “yes.”

She raced back to the Crystal Ball Room and told Gabriella the good news about the talent show.

“It's nice to see you taking an interest in an activity befitting a princess,” said Gabriella. “I'll help paint the sign if you'd like. And I can judge the auditions, too.”

Lysandra gulped. “Thank you.” She welcomed the help on the sign; Gabriella's handwriting was far better than Lysandra's. Yet Gabriella's idea of “talent” was probably miles apart from her own.

When the sign was ready, Lysandra propped it in front of the crystal ball. Anyone peering in from another castle or palace would see the sign right away. It read:

“I do hope we get a good turnout,” said Gabriella.

“So do I,” said Lysandra.

 

By June tenth, thirty-three princesses had RSVPed. The castle was a hive of activity as
servants buzzed from one room to another preparing additional sleeping chambers, washing linens, finding extra dishes, and cooking lots of food.

“We're going to need a stage,” Gabriella said. “I'll get some workmen on it right away.”

“Can't we just use the Audience Room and string up a curtain?” asked Lysandra.

Gabriella's eyes widened in horror. “Of course not! The Audience Room might be suitable for auditions, but we'll want to invite lots and lots of people to the show.”

Lysandra gulped. If things went the way she hoped, there might not be an actual show. But she could hardly tell Gabriella that.

Before long the sound of hammers, axes, saws, and chisels filled the air as the castle carpenters began construction of a huge wooden stage in the courtyard. The royal
gardeners planted rows and rows of rosebushes on both sides.

“Where are we supposed to fight?” Owen complained to Lysandra.

Henry, who was drinking from a silver goblet, spit a long stream of cider between his teeth. “How about down by the stables?”

“Sounds good to me,” said George.

As the boys walked away, Owen cast Lysandra a nasty look.

Finally, on the afternoon before the auditions, the princesses began to arrive. From a tower room overlooking the castle walls, Lysandra watched the first few horse-drawn carriages rumble over the drawbridge. She raced down to the Great Hall to join Gabriella and Queen Rowena in receiving the princesses.

At first they seemed a very ordinary lot: beautiful and well-mannered, of course, but not terribly exciting. But as the ninth prin
cess stepped forward to curtsy, Lysandra felt a strong rush of wind enter the Hall. Looking up, Lysandra saw a girl on a flying carpet. The carpet zoomed from the ceiling to the floor and came to an abrupt halt at Lysandra's feet.

The princess riding the carpet tumbled off. “Whoa there. Sorry!” she cried, jumping up. Then she swayed, as if she might faint.

“Are you okay?” asked Lysandra.

The girl grinned. “I'm fine. Just dizzy.” She curtsied clumsily. “Princess Fatima. Glad to meet you.”

Lysandra studied Princess Fatima as Queen Rowena spoke with her. She had long black hair, dark skin, and almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a pink silk blouse and purple pantaloons that resembled a skirt split into trousers. Her feet were bare.

Gabriella rang a little bell and a chamber
maid came into the Hall. “Please take Princess Fatima to her quarters. I'm sure she'd like to change into more
proper
attire.”

Princess Fatima blushed. “But this is how I always dress. I don't even own a skirt. It would just fly up when I travel.”

Gabriella sniffed. “I'm sure we can find you a suitable gown among Lysandra's things. You seem to be about her size.”

“I think you look fine just as you are,” said Lysandra. Gabriella was so rude! “But if you
want
to borrow something of mine, you can.”

“Thank you,” said Princess Fatima. “But I'd rather stay as I am.” She curtsied again, then went off to sit with the other princesses.

Lysandra watched her walk away. Maybe if she apologized to Fatima later on for Gabriella's remark, Fatima would offer to give her a ride on the flying carpet. With a flying carpet, one could go anywhere! Fatima seemed like just the kind of princess Lysandra had been wishing to meet. She hoped there'd be others like her at the auditions tomorrow.

L
YSANDRA CHECKED HER LIST OF NAMES.
“Princess Penelope!” she called out. It was the seventh name on her list. The first six princesses to audition that morning had included two singers and four dancers. The first singer had been dreadful, but the second was pretty good, though she'd had to stretch her voice to reach the high notes. The dancers could waltz and twirl wonderfully,
but that wasn't the kind of talent Lysandra was after. What use would singing and dancing be during an adventure?

A red velvet curtain had been installed in the Audience Room for the auditions. It parted now and Princess Penelope walked out, holding a golden ball.

Gabriella leaned forward in her chair. “Please tell us your talent.”

Princess Penelope, short and stout, smiled dreamily. “I'm a juggler.”

“Where are your other balls?” asked Gabriella, frowning.

“Other balls?” Penelope looked confused. “I only juggle
one
.” She threw her golden ball a foot in the air and caught it. Then she threw it a little higher and caught it again. After five or six times, Gabriella stopped her.

“I think I might be able to throw a little
higher still,” said Penelope. “Want me to try?”

Gabriella pursed her lips. “No, thank you. That's quite enough.”

The next several princesses were also a pretty worthless lot. One princess held up a “magic” seashell. In a mysterious voice she said, “If you hold this to your ear, you'll hear the ocean.”

“What a nitwit,” Lysandra muttered under her breath. “Everyone knows that old trick.”

Next Princess Minerva took off her shoes and showed the girls that her second toes were longer than her big toes. She was followed by a princess with
webbed
toes who released a jar of flies, then flicked an amazingly long tongue out of her mouth and zapped the flies up one by one. It seemed like a pretty
good trick until another princess exposed her as a witch's mistake—a frog turned into a princess.

Hiding a smile, Lysandra consulted her list. “Princess Elena,” she called out.

Princess Elena was slim and graceful,
with soft, hazel eyes and frizzy brown hair. She recited a poem about a mermaid and a sea serpent. Elena had a lovely, soothing voice and recited well, but Lysandra didn't think she seemed the adventurous type.

“Very nice,” Gabriella said, nodding appreciatively when Elena had finished.

Elena blinked as if unaware that anyone
had been listening. “Thank you.” She curtsied shyly, then sat down to watch the rest of the auditions.

“Princess Tansy!” Lysandra called out when there were only five princesses left to perform.

The curtains parted and out stepped a boyish-looking girl with short, ginger-colored hair and freckles. She held up a wooden instrument. “This is a magic flute,” she said.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. “And what's magic about it?” she asked wearily.

“It was carved by a wizard and sings what people are thinking.”

“O-
kay
,” Gabriella said, plainly disbelieving.

Tansy pressed her lips to the flute and began to play. A sprightly melody floated through the air and made Lysandra feel like dancing. Suddenly a swirl of voices rose above the melody. Lysandra was startled to hear the thought she'd had just a moment ago come
drifting back to her:
This music makes me feel like dancing.

Then she heard one of Gabriella's thoughts:
That's not a proper flute. A proper flute is shiny and silver with sweeter-sounding tones.

She plays prettily enough, but what a horrible
haircut
, came a thought from a princess who had already auditioned.
And that dress she's wearing hangs on her like a flour sack.

I wish I hadn't muffed my last cartwheel
, came another thought.
What if I don't make it into the talent show?

Finally the song came to an end. Grinning mischievously, Tansy pulled her flute away from her lips. “Just so everyone knows,” she said, “this
is
a proper flute, I
like
my haircut, and this happens to be my
favorite
dress.” She gave a bow instead of a curtsy, then disappeared behind the curtain.

Gabriella's jaw dropped. “Well, I never!”

Lysandra smiled. She was going to have to get to know Tansy better.

Of the next three princesses, the first could wiggle her ears, the second could fold herself into a pretzel, and the third could cross her eyes, whistle, and tap-dance all at
the same time. The very last princess to audition was Princess Fatima. She glided through the curtain on her flying carpet and performed a dizzying variety of loop the loops, figure eights, and sudden drops from the ceiling. It was during one of these drops that she lost her hold and tumbled head over heels onto the floor, badly skinning one knee.

“Bats and bullfrogs!” she exclaimed loudly.

Seeming more horrified at Princess Fatima's outburst than her injury, most of the princesses covered their ears. But Princess Elena rushed to Fatima's side. Swiftly Elena pulled a small blue bottle from the folds of her gown. She poured several drops of a white, creamy lotion into her hand, then gently applied the lotion to Fatima's knee, which healed instantly.

Now
that
was a useful talent, thought Lysandra. Maybe she'd misjudged the shy,
poetry-reading princess after all.

Fatima stood up. After testing her knee with a few practice kicks, she hugged Elena. “Thanks! You're terrific.”

Lysandra nodded.
Fatima, Tansy, and Elena
. Those would be
her
top choices for talent—and, she hoped, for future friends.