The Very Little Princess

by Marion Dane Bauer

  No one was more amazed at the tears than Rose. She rarely cried. Not in front of teachers. Not in front of other kids, either.

  She slapped at the annoying drops pouring down her face. Ignoring the look on Mr. Simmons’s face, she reached into her desk, grabbed the doll in her damp hand, and headed for the door.

  As she moved up the aisle, though, something strange happened.

  The doll moved in her hand.

  Now, Rose knew better, of course. Dolls don’t move … unless they come with a battery or a windup key. And this one had neither. But it didn’t matter what Rose knew. The doll moved anyway.

  It was a wriggle. Or maybe it was a series of small jerks. Certainly it wasn’t anything you would expect from a china doll.

  If a doll suddenly moved in my hand, I’d probably drop it in surprise. I’ll bet you would, too.

  But Rose didn’t flinch. She simply tightened her hand over the wriggle.

  And then, just as she pushed through the door to the hall, a voice rang out from the hollow of her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” the voice said. “Put me down this instant!”

  Chapter 3

  “Your Royal Highness”

  When Rose reached the sidewalk in front of the school, she didn’t stop to examine the doll. She just ran, her fingers wrapped tightly around the squirming, shouting little thing.

  She kept running until she had a stitch in her side. Even then she didn’t slow down much. She just pressed her free hand into the pain and kept going.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the tiny doll said again. And she added, “You big …” That was followed by a string of what were obviously meant to be swear words. They seemed to be the tiny doll’s own invention … or else they were in another language. Either way, Rose had never heard any of the words before.

  Rose ran until she reached her own house, a tall yellow one set well back from a gravel road. When she got there, she didn’t go to the door, though.

  She didn’t want her mother to see her. Hazel was understanding about many things. She understood that sitting still in school wasn’t easy for a girl like Rose. She even understood that Mr. Simmons could be annoying. But running out of school in the middle of the day with her teacher bellowing behind her … Hazel wouldn’t understand that. In fact, she would be very upset.

  And Rose didn’t think there was a grown-up in the world who would understand a three-and-a-quarter-inch doll that wriggled and swore!

  So she scurried along the side of the house toward the best hiding spot she knew. It was the weeping willow tree at the very back of the yard. Even though it was early spring, the willow had already put on its dressing of slender leaves. The pale branches trailed on the ground on every side, making the tree a perfect hiding spot.

  Rose ducked beneath the tree and threw herself down on the mossy ground, her heart pounding. She opened her hand slowly.

  The china doll lying in her palm was very damp, very rumpled, and very, very angry. She sat up and went right on yelling, if the small, shrill voice coming from such a tiny throat could be called yelling.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked for the third time, and she kicked her heels against Rose’s palm.

  “I’m keeping you safe!” Rose snapped.

  “Safe from what?” the doll said. “Big, clumsy oafs who block out the sun?”

  Rose opened her mouth. As you’ve probably noticed, she was usually quick with answers. But her mouth closed again before anything came out. She did feel like a big, clumsy oaf next to this tiny thing. Who wouldn’t?

  And besides, a million questions swirled in her brain.

  The most important one was … how had this happened? When Rose had tucked her find into her pocket in the attic, the doll had been a doll. When she had watched it drop over the banister, it was just a doll. When she had brought it to school that morning and placed it in her desk on her math book, the doll had been a doll. Nothing more.

  But now the china doll moved her arms and legs and turned her head. She stood in Rose’s hand and plopped back down again.

  Even her face changed. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened and closed … and pouted. And, of course, she talked. Her shrill voice practically cleaned the wax out of Rose’s ears.

  She wasn’t exactly alive, if being alive means being flesh and blood. She was still made of china. But she was certainly awake.

  Rose picked the doll up between her thumb and forefinger. She set her down on a mossy rock at the base of the willow tree and stared at her.

  A three-and-one-quarter-inch doll that walked and talked! Nothing so wonderful had ever happened to Rose in her entire life!

  So instead of wading into an argument, which would have been easy to do, she bowed deeply. “Your Royal Highness,” she said, “I am your humble servant.”

  Rose didn’t really mean it, you understand. Or rather she only half meant it. Mostly she was repeating something Sam sometimes said to her. Usually it was when he’d decided she’d gotten “the big head.”

  But apparently the doll didn’t know that. She crossed her tiny arms over her tiny chest and looked Rose in the eye. “Well,” she said, “it’s about time somebody realized who I am!”

  Have you ever gazed up at the underside of a weeping willow tree from the point of view of a three-and-one-quarter-inch doll?

  Of course you haven’t. But imagine it. The leaves tremble in the breeze, forming a wall of shimmering green. The branches curving above you are the ceiling of a palace.

  You sink deep into a cushion of velvet moss. The rock you’re sitting on becomes a throne.

  And this girl, this enormous girl with a great snarl of dark curls, has just bowed to you. She has said the words that you have always known were yours to hear, “Your Royal Highness” and “I am your humble servant.”

  What would you say? What would you do?

  Chances are pretty good that you would be more humble than this tiny doll. Most of us would be. But still, you might be tempted to take advantage of the moment … just a bit. And the doll was more than tempted.

  “Every princess,” she said in her most haughty voice, “should have flowers in her throne room. Why are there no flowers?”

  Now, there are several very good reasons there were no flowers.

  First, Rose hadn’t known she would be entertaining a princess.

  Second, few flowers can grow in the shade under a weeping willow tree.

  And third, this was early spring in northern Minnesota. Flowers weren’t growing much of anywhere yet.

  The princess waited, but the giant girl who had identified herself as a servant didn’t apologize. She didn’t run out to search for flowers, either, which is what any proper servant would have done. She simply sat and stared. Then she clapped her hands. And then she began to laugh, a great, rolling belly laugh. She obviously thought something was terribly funny.

  “Throne room?” she cried. “Princess?” she howled. “You!”

  The doll was speechless. Could this lug of a girl be making fun of her?

  Impossible!

  She was, as you have probably noticed, a very self-confident doll. But still, the laughter and the questions shocked her. If she wasn’t a princess, who was she?

  “Of course I’m a princess,” the doll said. Doubting her own words made her speak even more emphatically. “I’m Princess …”

  But she got no further. What was her name? Surely she had a name. Every princess did. She must have forgotten it while she slept.

  The girl came to the princess’s rescue … as a good servant should. “Princess Regina,” Rose said, “how nice of you to come visit.”

  Now, just in case you don’t know, Regina is a Latin word. It means queen. Being called Princess Regina is a bit like being called Princess Queen. Sam sometimes used the name to make fun of his over-the-top little sister. So now I know that and you know that. It just so happens that Rose knew it, too. But the doll didn’t. In fact, she had no
idea she was being teased. Princess Regina sounded quite fine to her. The instant she heard it, she was certain it had always been hers.

  She tried the name on her tongue, softly. “Princess Regina,” she said.

  Then she looked up at the girl towering over her and frowned. She hardly seemed like a proper servant for a princess. Her dark too-curly hair poked in every direction at once. And she had a smudge from a red marker on her cheek that she must have gotten at school. Even her shirt was buttoned wrong. She might have dressed with her eyes half closed.

  Still, the princess made a decision. She couldn’t remember where she had been before she woke in this girl’s wet hand. But wherever it was, she didn’t want to go back there. So she’d make the best of what she had at the moment. It was, I’m sure you’ll agree, a wise choice.

  She straightened her back and lifted her tiny chin. “It’s not a visit,” she said to the great moon face hovering above her. “You are much more fortunate than that. Princess Regina is here to stay!”

  Chapter 4

  Staying

  And stay she did.

  She stayed while Rose gathered pinecones and pebbles to decorate the throne room.

  She stayed through the scolding. It seemed Rose’s teacher had called. Regina wasn’t much interested in what he’d had to say, since it had nothing to do with her. Rose’s parents were certainly upset, though.

  She stayed through dinner, perched on the edge of Rose’s plate, pretending not to see or hear. She pretended, in fact, to be the lifeless china doll the grown-ups expected. She couldn’t remember much from before she’d awakened in this enormous girl’s hand. Still, she was pretty sure most adults got upset when they found out a doll could walk and talk.

  And Princess Regina certainly stayed after Rose carried her upstairs to her room.

  As soon as Rose closed the door, the princess began talking again.

  She talked. And she talked. And she talked.

  Rose listened.

  After a while—it was a long time, really, but since Regina was doing most of the talking it didn’t seem so long to her—Rose put on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She lifted Regina to the pillow and lay down next to her.

  Princess Regina went on talking. Rose went on listening.

  She talked about what it was like to be a princess. It’s a great responsibility, don’t you know, to be in charge of such a huge world.

  She talked about how difficult it was being small. (“I see the undersides of everything,” she told Rose. “Including your nose. Ugh!”)

  She talked about what she wanted to do the next day. She wanted to go back to her throne room. She wanted Rose to find flowers, not just pebbles and pinecones. Surely there were flowers somewhere. She wanted Rose, her humble servant, to wait on her.

  Rose talked a bit, too, mostly about Regina, which suited the little doll just fine. She admired Regina’s pink and white cheeks, her golden hair, her sapphire eyes.

  (Sapphire and golden and pink and white were instantly Regina’s favorite colors.)

  Rose’s mother looked in a couple of times. Her father did, too. Regina went quiet when they appeared. When they were gone, she went back to talking.

  But at the point that Regina began trying to remember former servants, all clumsy and oversized, too, Rose quit answering. Her eyes drifted closed.

  How rude! Regina thought.

  Rose began to breathe deeply.

  “Wake up!” the princess ordered. She tugged on one of Rose’s eyelashes. “I didn’t say you could leave me!”

  Rose’s eyes popped open. Then they narrowed dangerously. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked.

  “Of course not!” Regina replied. “Why should I sleep?” She shuddered. She could think of few things she wanted less. That was where she had just come from, wasn’t it? Sleep … or someplace very like it.

  “Well,” Rose said, “I do. Sleep, I mean. And if I’m not allowed to do it, I get to feeling real mean.”

  “So?” Regina said with a shrug of her tiny shoulders. Why should she care about how her servant felt?

  But Rose wasn’t through. “When I get to feeling mean”—she bared her teeth—“I eat little dolls!”

  Eat! Little dolls! Princess Regina had never heard anything more silly … or more terrifying.

  Still, she poked her chin out. “You can’t eat me,” she said. “I’m made of fine china. Nobody eats china.”

  She said this as though she were certain. But she wasn’t entirely. Since she herself didn’t eat, eating was something she didn’t understand very well.

  “Just try me!” Rose said. And she turned over, away from the tiny doll sitting on her pillow.

  Regina decided not to.

  She lay back on the pillow and let her humble servant drift off to sleep.

  But while Rose slept, Regina sulked. She didn’t like being alone. The girl had no right to leave her alone. No right at all.

  She remembered the threat, though, about being eaten. So she waited, silent and still.

  A smothering dark filled the room. It pressed in from every side.

  The floor creaked. Had someone come in? Someone else who ate china dolls?

  Moonlight stalked the floor. Every shape it found turned into a monster. Every monster was bigger than a thousand princess dolls. They were bigger than a hundred thousand dolls.

  Regina closed her eyes to shut out the monsters. She could hear Rose breathing. She didn’t know why humans had to breathe. It was an ugly sound.

  She opened her eyes again.

  More darkness.

  After a long, long time the moonlight snuck away. The sky faded from black to navy blue. It went from navy blue to silver. Then it turned the palest pink possible.

  Sunlight peeked in the bedroom window. Even when it lay across Rose’s face, it didn’t wake her. And Regina still didn’t dare to.

  The house came slowly to life with thumps and bumps.

  Rose slept on.

  At last Hazel’s voice drifted up the stairs, riding on the smell of coffee and toast. “Rose,” she called. “It’s time to get up. Rose!”

  The instant Rose’s eyes opened, the little doll started talking again. Actually, she began complaining … loudly. “I don’t know why you humans have to sleep so long,” she said. “I don’t understand why you have to sleep at all. A princess should never be left alone in the dark like that. It’s creepy. And listening to you breathe … Ugh!”

  Rose sat up and rubbed her eyes. She stared at Regina as though she’d forgotten she was there. “Don’t you breathe?” she asked finally.

  “No!” Regina said. “I don’t breathe. And I don’t eat. And I don’t … well, I don’t do that other thing you humans do. From the other end, you know?”

  To Regina’s surprise, Rose laughed. “La-di-da,” she said. “Aren’t you something?”

  But before Regina could respond to that, Hazel called again. “Rose, dear! It’s time to get up. School.”

  Rose’s face went pale at the word school. Still, she called back, “I’m up.” And she swung her feet out of the bed.

  “I have to get ready,” she told Regina. “And I can’t take you with me this time. Something bad will happen if I do. Something bad nearly happened yesterday.”

  The only reason Princess Regina didn’t go pale, too, was because she was made of china. If she’d been made of blood and bones the way you and I are, her cheeks would certainly have lost their cheerful pink.

  “You’re going to go off and leave me!” she cried. “You’re going to leave me alone after that horrible night?”

  Rose shrugged. “I have to go to school. All kids do. It’s a law … or something like that.”

  Princess Regina stood up in the middle of the pillow. She clenched her fists. She screwed her face into a ferocious frown. “You … will … not … leave … me!” she shouted. “And that’s a command! If you’re going to school, I will go to school, too. If you go out to play, I will play. If y
ou eat, I will …” Here she hesitated. Then she started again. “I will watch you eat,” she said. “But you won’t leave me. Ever!”

  Rose had been reaching for her clothes. She stopped and turned back, her mouth fallen open into an O.

  Princess Regina waited. She would have held her breath if she’d had breath to hold. What would the girl do?

  Regina was a princess. She knew she was a princess. Rose was her servant. That was certain. Servants followed orders. That was the way the world was made.

  But even at her most royal, Regina could never quite forget that she was a very small princess. And this servant of hers was a very large girl.

  Regina needn’t have worried, though. Not right now, anyway.

  Rose’s mouth closed. It curled into a smile. It stretched into a grin. A laugh came tumbling out. “Well, then,” she said, “if that’s the way things are, I guess I’d better figure out how to hide you away!”

  Relieved, Regina plopped down on the pillow. Everything would be all right! Rose was going to obey her.

  Chapter 5

  A World Shared

  And she did. Rose tucked Regina safely into her pocket and kept her with her all day long.

  The first thing she had to do when she got back to school was explain to Mr. Simmons why she had left so abruptly the day before.

  And since she couldn’t tell him that she couldn’t stand his bullying, she had to make up a story. Luckily, Rose was good at stories.

  “I got this terrible bellyache,” she said. “It came on real fast. I didn’t want to throw up on the clean school floor. So I decided I’d better get home right away.”

  When Mr. Simmons pointed out that he had called her mother and she hadn’t known where Rose was, she added, “That’s because I went around behind the house. I don’t like to throw up in front of anybody, you see? It’s the retching. The sound of it. It’s so awful to listen to anybody retching. Don’t you think? Whenever I hear that sound, it makes me want to—”