This post is part of StoryADay May (https://storyaday.org/) #StoryADay #StoryADayMay @storyadaymay #freeshortstory

The Princess Who Considered Part 1

by Marian Allen

Once upon a time, there was a princess who was as proud as she was beautiful. Nothing except her parents and herself was ever good enough for her, which was irritating when she was small, but had become problematic as she neared marriageable age.

The king explained to her that the purpose of a royal marriage was to strengthen the kingdom, not to make the participants happy, but she explained, in turn, that none of the kingdoms, queendoms, or principalities offering themselves were good enough for her father’s kingdom.

In vain, he tried to communicate the idea of acceptable, but only shook her head and laughed.

At length, the queen sent a letter to her old nanny, asking for advice.

“Send the girl to me,” Nanny replied. Only that. The king wanted more detail, but the queen packed the simple gowns she had worn when she was under Nanny’s care and sent the princess off with them.

Nanny had been sent into retirement with honor and modest riches, but lived in a two-room hut at the edge of the woods.

When she saw it, the princess refused to get out of the carriage so, following the queen’s orders, the coachman unharnessed the horses and rode off on one, leading the other, and left the princess in the carriage, which was now, in essence, a smaller hut than the one she had refused to enter.

Dusk fell, the woods darkened, small creatures crept out, and the princess began to shiver. Candlelight cast a soft glow through the hut’s window, then firelight flickered and cast dancing shadows while smoke blew around and down and through the carriage windows.

When the princess judged that the hut was now superior to her carriage, she jumped down (having no footman to lower the steps and offer a gloved hand to her) and approached the door.

No one opened it for her. No one announced her. She announced herself in as deep a voice as she could counterfeit, but no one answered. She had never given any notice to anyone beneath her, but she now remembered that sometimes the person announcing her to her mother’s or father’s presence had rapped his knuckles on the wood of the door. Upon this door hung a knocker of black iron shaped like an oak leaf. Gingerly, she lifted it and let it fall. Once, twice, three times.

“Come in, dearie,” called a strong voice.

“Let me in,” said the princess.

“Let yourself in,” said Nanny.

The princess studied the iron on the edge of the door, worked out how it kept the door latched or enabled it to open, and let herself in.

Nanny sat by the fire, knitting, as the princess remembered her own nanny doing before being outgrown and replaced.

“Close the door,” said Nanny. “Warm yourself. Cut yourself a bit of bread. Then you can go back out and bring in your luggage.”

The princess opened her mouth to say, “I? I cut myself a bit of peasant bread? I bring in my luggage?” Her pride stopped her objection, and she closed her mouth again.

To be continued….

MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: Mrs. Wuest’s olive bread. Mrs. Wuest makes the most yummiest goodies, including this garlic and herb bread with green olives in.

MA