Map
ILLUSTRATED BY MARK ELLIOTT
Contents
Map
The Fairy’s Mistake
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Epilogue
Rosella’s Song
The Princess Test
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Epilogue
Princess Sonora and the Long Sleep
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Epilogue
Cinderellis and the Glass Hill
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Epilogue
For Biddle’s Sake
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Epilogue
The Fairy’s Return
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
Back Ad
About the Author
Books by Gail Carson Levine
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
All my thanks to my wonderful editor, Alix Reid.
Without you, The Princess Tales would never have been told.
—G.C.L.
One
Once upon a time, in the village of Snetteringon-Snoakes in the kingdom of Biddle, Rosella fetched water from the well for the four thousand and eighty-eighth time.
Rosella always fetched the water because her identical twin sister, Myrtle, always refused to go. And their mother, the widow Pickering, never made Myrtle do anything. Instead, she made Rosella do everything.
At the well the fairy Ethelinda was having a drink. When she saw Rosella coming, she changed herself into an old lady. Then she made herself look thirsty.
“Would you like a drink, Grandmother?” Rosella said.
“That would be lovely, dearie.”
Rosella lowered her wooden bucket into the well. When she lifted it out, she held the dipper so the old lady could drink.
Ethelinda slurped the water. “Thank you. Your kindness merits a reward. From now—”
“You don’t have . . .” Rosella stopped. Something funny was happening in her mouth. Had she lost a tooth? There was something hard under her tongue. And something hard in her cheek. “Excuse me.” Now there was something in her other cheek. She spat delicately into her hand.
“SHE SPAT DELICATELY INTO HER HAND.”
They weren’t teeth. She was holding a diamond and two opals.
“There, dearie.” Ethelinda smiled. “Isn’t that nice?”
Two
“What took you so long?” Myrtle said when Rosella got home.
“Your sister almost perished from thirst, you lazybones,” their mother said.
“I gave a drink to . . .” Something was in Rosella’s mouth again. It was between her lip and her front teeth this time. “I gave a drink to an old lady.” An emerald and another diamond fell out of her mouth. They landed on the dirt floor of the cottage.
“It was more important— What’s that?” Myrtle said.
“What’s that?” the widow said.
They both dove for the jewels, but Myrtle got there first.
“Rosella darling,” the widow said, “sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Now tell us all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”
There wasn’t much to tell, only enough to cover the bottom of Myrtle’s teacup with gems.
“Which way did the old lady go?” Myrtle asked.
Rosella was puzzled. “She didn’t go anywhere.” An amethyst dropped into the teacup.
Myrtle grabbed the bucket and ran.
When she saw Myrtle in the distance, Ethelinda thought Rosella had come back. Only this time she wasn’t tripping lightly down the path, smelling the flowers and humming a tune. She was hurtling along, head down, arms swinging, bucket flying. And then Ethelinda’s fairy powers told her that this was Rosella’s twin sister. Ethelinda got ready by turning herself into a knight.
“Where did the old lady go?” Myrtle said when she reached the well.
“I haven’t seen anyone. I’ve been alone, hoping some kind maiden would come by and give me a drink. I can’t do it myself with all this armor.”
“What’s in it for me if I do?”
The fairy tilted her head. Her armor clanked. “The happiness of helping someone in need.”
“Well, in that case, get your page to do it.” Myrtle stomped off.
Ethelinda turned herself back into a fairy. “Your rudeness merits a punishment,” she said. But Myrtle was too far away to hear.
Myrtle went through the whole village of Snettering-on-Snoakes, searching for the old lady. The villagers knew she was Myrtle and not Rosella by her scowl and by the way she acted. Myrtle marched into shops and right into people’s houses. She opened doors to rooms and even closets. Whenever anyone yelled at her, her only answer was to slam the door on her way out.
While Myrtle was in the village, Rosella went out to her garden to pick peas for dinner. As she worked, she sang.
“Oh, May is the lovely month.
Sing hey nonny May-o!
Oh, June is the flower month.
Sing hey nonny June-o!
Oh, July is the hot month.
Sing hey nonny July-o!”
And so on. While she sang, gems dropped from her mouth. It still felt funny, but she was getting used to it. Except once she popped a pea into her mouth as she sang, and she almost broke a tooth on a ruby.
Rosella had a sweet voice, but Prince Harold, who happened to be riding by, wasn’t musical. He wouldn’t have stopped, except he spotted the sapphire trembling on Rosella’s lip. He watched it tumble into the vegetables.
He tied his horse up at the widow Pickering’s picket fence.
Rosella didn’t see him, and she went on singing.
“Oh, November is the harvest month.
Sing hey nonny November-o!
Oh, December is the last month.
Sing hey . . .”
Prince Harold went into the garden. “Maiden . . .”
Rosella looked up from her peas. A man! A nobleman! She blushed prettily.
She wasn’t bad-looking, Prince Harold thought. “Pardon me,” he said. “You’ve dropped some jewels. Allow me.”
“Oh! Don’t trouble yourself, Sir.” Another sapphire and a moonstone fell out of Rosella’s mouth.
Ha
rold had a terrible thought. Maybe they were just glass. He picked up a stone. “May I examine this?”
Rosella nodded.
It didn’t look like glass. It looked like a perfect diamond, five carats at least. But if the gems were real, why was she leaving them on the ground? He held up a jewel. “Maiden, is this really a diamond?”
“I don’t know, Sir. It might be.”
A topaz hit Prince Harold in the forehead. He caught it as it bounced off his chin. “Maiden, have jewels always come out of your mouth?”
Rosella laughed, a lovely tinkling sound. “Oh no, Sir. It only began this afternoon when an old lady—I think she may have been a fairy—”
They were real then! Harold knelt before her. “Maiden, I am Prince Harold. I love you madly. Will you marry me?”
“HE ASKED HER ABOUT HER GARDEN, ABOUT THE WEATHER . . . ABOUT ANYTHING.”
Three
Rosella didn’t love the prince madly, but she liked him. He was so polite. And she thought it might be pleasanter to be a princess than to be the widow Pickering’s daughter and Myrtle’s sister. Besides, it could be against the law to say no to a prince. So she said yes, and dropped a garnet into his hand.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Clink. Clink. Two more garnets joined Harold’s collection. “You must say, ‘Yes, Harold,’ now that we’re betrothed.”
“Yes, Harold.”
Clink.
The fairy Ethelinda was delighted that Rosella was going to be a princess. She deserves it, the fairy thought. Ethelinda was pleased with herself for having given Rosella the perfect reward.
The widow Pickering agreed to the marriage. But she insisted that Harold give her all the gems Rosella had produced before their engagement. The widow was careful not to mention Myrtle. She didn’t want the prince to know that Rosella had a twin sister who would also have a jewel mine in her mouth. After all, what if he took Myrtle away too?
Prince Harold swung Rosella up on his horse. He asked her to hold an open saddlebag on her lap. Then he mounted in front of her. As they rode off, he asked her about her garden, about the weather, about fly fishing, about anything.
The widow stood at the fence and waved her handkerchief. As she turned to go back into the cottage, she saw her favorite daughter in the distance. Myrtle was loping along, swinging the bucket. The widow opened the gate and followed her daughter into the house. “Darling, speak to me.”
Myrtle sank into their only comfortable chair. “Hi, Mom. The stupid old lady wasn’t—” There was a tickle in the back of her throat. What was going on? It felt like her tongue had gotten loose and was flopping around in her mouth. Could she be making jewels too? Did it happen just by going to the well? Whatever it was—diamond or pearl or emerald—it wanted to get out. Myrtle opened her mouth.
A garter snake slithered out.
The widow screamed and jumped onto their other chair. “Eeeeek! Get that thing out of here! Myrtle!” She pointed a shaking finger. “There it is! Get it! Eeeeek!”
Myrtle didn’t budge. She stared at the snake coiling itself around a bedpost. How had this happened if the old lady wasn’t at the well? The knight? The knight! The old lady had turned herself into a knight.
Myrtle jumped up and raced out, taking the bucket with her. “’Bye, Mom,” she called over her shoulder. “See you later.” Two mosquitoes and a dragonfly flew out of her mouth.
The fairy Ethelinda watched Myrtle scurry down the road. She patted herself on the back for having given Myrtle the perfect punishment.
Four
Prince Harold and Rosella reached the courtyard in front of the prince’s palace. He lifted Rosella down from the horse.
“I’m too madly in love to wait,” he said. “Let’s announce our engagement first thing tomorrow morning, dear heart.”
“All right,” Rosella said.
Harold only got a measly seed pearl. “Princesses speak in complete sentences, darling.”
Rosella took a deep breath for courage. “I’m tired, Your High—I mean Harold. May I rest for a day first?”
But Harold didn’t listen. He was too interested in the green diamond in his hand. “I’ve never seen one of these before, honey bun. We can have the betrothal ceremony at nine o’clock sharp. Your Royal Ladies-in-Waiting will find you something to wear.”
Harold snapped his fingers, and a Royal Lady-in-Waiting led Rosella away. They were on the castle doorstep when Harold ran after them.
“Angel, I almost forgot. What would you like served at our betrothal feast?”
Nobody had ever asked Rosella this kind of question before. She’d always had to eat scraps from her mother’s and her sister’s plates. Nobody had ever asked her what she liked to eat. Nobody had ever asked her opinion about anything.
She smiled happily. “Your—I mean, Harold . . . uh . . . dear, I’d like poached quail eggs and roasted chestnuts for our betrothal feast.” Six identical emeralds the color of maple leaves in May dropped from Rosella’s mouth.
The Royal Lady-in-Waiting, who was at Rosella’s elbow, gasped.
“Look at these!” Harold said. “They’re gorgeous. So you want wild boar for dinner?” He didn’t give Rosella time to say she hated wild boar. “What do you know? It’s my favorite too. I’ll go tell the cook.” He rushed off.
Rosella sighed.
The fairy Ethelinda, who was keeping an eye on things, sighed too.
Myrtle returned to the well, determined to give a drink to anybody who was there. But nobody was. She lowered the bucket into the well anyway.
Nobody showed up.
She had an idea. It was worth a try. She watered the plants that grew around the well. “Dear plants,” she began. “You look thirsty. Perhaps a little water would please you. It’s no trouble. I don’t mind, dear sweet plants.”
Whatever was in her mouth was too big to be a jewel, unless it was the biggest one in the world. And a jewel wouldn’t feel slimy on her tongue. She opened her mouth. A water bug crawled out. She closed her mouth, but there was more. More slime. She opened her mouth again. Two more water bugs padded out, followed by a black snake.
Giving the plants a drink hadn’t done any good. Myrtle dumped the rest of the water on a rose bush. “Drown, you stupid plant,” she muttered. A grasshopper landed on a rose.
Myrtle filled her bucket one more time. Then—without saying a single word—she scoured the village again for the rotten fairy who’d done this to her. She swore to herself that she’d pour water down the throat of any stranger she found.
But there were no strangers, so Myrtle threw the bucket into the well and headed for home.
The widow was in the garden. She had dug up the peas and the radishes and the tomato plants. Now she was pawing through the roots, hoping to find some jewels that Prince Harold had missed. When she heard the gate slam shut, she stood up. “Don’t say a word if you didn’t find that old lady.”
Myrtle closed her mouth with a snap. She picked up a stick and scratched in the dirt, “Where’s Rosella?”
“She rode off to marry a prince. And like a fool, I let her go, because I thought I had you. You bungler, you idiot, you . . .”
That made Myrtle furious. How could she have known the fairy would turn herself into a knight in so much armor you couldn’t even see her—his—face? And hadn’t she searched the village twice? And hadn’t she watered those useless plants? Myrtle opened her mouth to give her mother what-for.
But the widow held up her hands and jumped back three feet. “Hush! Shh! Hush, my love. Perhaps I was hasty. We’ve both had a bad . . .”
Her mother’s pleas gave Myrtle a new idea. She picked up the stick again and wrote, “Things are looking up, Mom. It will all be better tomorrow.” She dropped the stick and started whistling—and wondering if whistling made snakes and insects too.
It didn’t. Too bad, she thought.
Five
Rosella
was used to sleeping on the floor, because Myrtle and the widow had always taken the bed. In the palace she got her own bed. It had a canopy and three mattresses piled on top of each other and satin sheets and ermine blankets and pillows filled with swans’ feathers.
So she should have gotten a fine night’s sleep—except that three Royal Guards stood at attention around her bed all night. One stood at each side of the bed, and one stood at the foot. If she talked in her sleep, they were supposed to catch the jewels and keep them safe for Prince Harold.
Rosella didn’t talk in her sleep because she couldn’t sleep with people watching her. By morning her throat felt scratchy. She thought she might be coming down with a cold.
Her twelve Royal Ladies-in-Waiting brought breakfast to her at seven o’clock. Scrambled eggs and wild-boar sausages. They shared the sausages while she ate the eggs. Rosella said “please” six times and “thank you” eight times. Each Royal Lady-in-Waiting got one jewel, and they fought over the remaining two.
“Nobody deserves that but me!” yelled one Royal Lady-in-Waiting.
“I work harder than any of you!” yelled another.
“I’m worth ten of each of you, so I should get everything!” shouted a third.
“You have some nerve, thinking . . .”
Rosella put her hands over her ears. She wished she could have ten minutes to herself.
Prince Harold came in. He coughed to get the attention of the Royal Ladies-in-Waiting. Nobody noticed except Rosella, who smiled at him. He’d be handsome, she thought, if he weren’t so greedy.
The Royal Ladies-in-Waiting went on arguing.
“How dare you—”
“What do you mean—”
“The first person who—”
“SHUT UP!” Harold roared.
They did.
“You mustn’t upset my bride.” He went to Rosella, who was eating her breakfast in bed. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Are you all right, sugar plum?”
Rosella nodded. She liked the pet names he called her. But she hoped he wouldn’t make her say anything.
“Tell me so I’m sure, lovey-dove.”
The fairy Ethelinda was worried.
Myrtle, on the other hand, had a great night’s sleep. When she woke up, she put paper, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink in a pouch. Then she set out for the village. She’d have a fine breakfast when she got there, and she wouldn’t pay a penny for it. As for the bucket she’d thrown down the well, why, she’d have her choice of buckets.
The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales Page 1
