Once upon a time there was a beautiful little girl. She was the youngest of a bunch of kids. While her mother insisted she loved all her kids equally, the little girl was certain she was her mother’s favorite.
(No, this isn’t about me, although Mom did love me best. <snark>)
The little girl’s dearest wish was to grow up to be a princess. She just knew she would be good at it. Even now her mother treated her like royalty, combing her pretty long hair until it shimmered. She let the little girl play inside all day so she wouldn’t get dirty. She had her own special silver dishes on which to eat the delicious meals her mother fixed. After lunch, the little girl would nap on a soft clean bed made up just for her.
On pleasant summer days, the little girl would stroll through the gardens or nap under the big willow tree next to the brook. In the afternoon her mother would find her there and carry her into the house for dinner. (I think she was just a little bit lazy myself.) After dinner her mother would brush her hair again so that it shone in the firelight before tucking her into bed.
Yes, indeed, she was well on her way to becoming a princess.
To be fair, the mother did love her other kids, but she didn’t have much time left for them. Some days they were lucky to get their faces washed and their hair combed before they were sent out to play or do their chores.
The oldest brother, Zeke, made sure there was plenty of firewood by the stove every day and the doors were locked at night (he was very responsible). Fat Tony, the middle brother, loved to eat and always cleaned up the leftovers when he washed the dishes. The little girl’s sister who was not nearly as pretty and was much too kind-hearted for her own good, made the beds. I’ve forgotten her name, but it doesn’t matter (you’ll see).
The little girl never had to do chores; her mother thought she was much too delicate for that sort of thing.
Over time, the little girl’s wish came true; she did become a Princess, at least in her own world. She wasn’t a mean princess, just self-centered, as princesses can be. She expected to get the softest chair to sit on, the seat closest to the warm fire and always, always was served first at dinner. Which the Princess ate on her special silver dishes.
If things didn’t go her way, she’d pout and mope until her mother and her siblings (who loved her despite her bad manners; after all she was so pretty) would feel guilty and give her anything she wanted. Once the Princess got her way, she could be affectionate, forgiving her family for their shortcomings. All in all, she was a happy Princess.
~
Time passed and as these things happen, the mother grew frail and died.
The Princess was frantic. “Who is going to brush my hair and prepare my meals,” she wept?
Her sister (she never had a chance) got elected 2-1 to take care of the Princess.
The two brothers, happy to make their escape, kissed the girls good-bye and went off into the world to make their living.
Zeke took up residence on the side of a mountain where he chopped firewood and guarded a kindly couple against the bears. He was glad not to have to put up with the Princess anymore. After all, while she was pretty, what was she good for? Zeke was a practical sort of fellow.
Fat Tony went to work on a farm so he’d never be hungry again. Even though he was jolly plump now, he was glad he didn’t have to share all the best food anymore. Or the best bed. Fat Tony was just a touch selfish himself.
The Princess and her sister carried on for a short term until tragedy struck again. The sister got a tummy ache one day and died very suddenly.
Now the Princess was alone. She knew she couldn’t live with Zeke, she was afraid of bears. And Fat Tony was already eating them out of house and home at the farm.
She tried to be brave. She fixed her own meals even though it was just cold cereal. She tried brushing her own hair but couldn’t get all the tangles out. She didn’t know how to make a bed. She was an utter failure at everything but being a princess.
After a few days her dishes were dirty, her bed was lumpy and her hair matted. She was miserable. And hungry. And very frightened. And just a teensy little bit mad at her family for failing her. (Didn’t I say she was self-centered?) She didn’t feel like a princess anymore.
“O, what’s to become of me? There’s no one to make my bed or carry me into the house when I’m tired. My hair is all dirty and matted. I miss my warm soft bed. I miss my clean dishes and my delicious meals. O, won’t someone take care of me? I wish I were a princess again.” She wept in her cold, dark corner.
(Say what you will about the Princess, but she did know the difference between were and was in the subjunctive form used in contrafactual constructions. Princesses are good at that sort of thing.)
And she cried herself to sleep.
And when she awoke, the Princess had her wish. Even better actually.
She had a brand new life. Her long hair was all clean and shiny. She had her favorite silver dishes and a brand new silver spoon with which to eat THE BEST food ever. A wonderful new feather bed and a beautiful new garden to walk in with plenty of shady spots to nap. Best of all, she didn’t have to share with her siblings. She was a Queen.
And the absolute best part – there was a handsome courtier to take care of her every whim.
She decided being a cat was better than being a princess anyday.
And they lived happily ever after.
The End
This is an unbelievably witty kitty story. The images of the mother and the willow by the brook made me a little weepy, though. It’s winter, and cold and dark and these kinds of stories can move you to tears. Zeke always did keep the woodbox full. And after he moved in, we never saw another bear again.
Kim
That is wonderful. You are such a witty writer! And I am so happy she knows about the subjunctive thing. That drives me batty when people say or write, “If I was…”