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The Princess Who Considered – Part 2

by Marian Allen

The princess cut herself a bit of Nanny’s bread, spread it with the butter Nanny offered, and found that her hunger made the simple food more delicious than the most delicate fare eaten in plenty. She had often heard and read that this was the case, but had never expected to be so unfortunate as to find out for herself.

When she had finished, Nanny sent her out to fetch in her own luggage, then showed her a bucket of water and a ladle and a wide, shallow bowl and told her to wash off her travel grime. She told her where to find a thin mattress and thick blankets and how to make herself a pallet by the night-banked fire (for, naturally, old Nanny would sleep in the hut’s one bed).

The princess, dressed for the night in a cotton gown with not so much as a ribbon for ornamentation, slept deeply and dreamed of being home again.

In the morning, after she had followed Nanny’s instructions on how to feed chickens, gather eggs, and boil eggs for breakfast, told Nanny of her dream.

“I want to go home. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m no more than the least of our subjects, in and of myself. I understand what my mother wanted you to teach me.”

“Very well and very good,” said Nanny. “But first, I have a task for you.”

“Oh, dear,” said the princess, who had read enough tales to know something of how this story would go. Two failures and a strange success, coming right up.

“Bring me some nuts as salty as the ocean and as sweet as pure honey, in a shell as clear as glass.”

The princess considered the task. The failures would be easy. She would just have to trust the narrative to deliver the strange success.

She cleaned up after breakfast, swept the floor, took a small wedge of cheese for her lunch and a small basket for Nanny’s task and went into the woods, being sure to keep at least a glimpse of the hut in sight.

When the sun was low in the sky, she returned with her basket empty.

“Have you been asleep all day?” Nanny demanded. “Lazy girl! You aren’t even trying!”

There was no point in trying the impossible, but the next day the princess returned with her basket filled with ordinary walnuts and hazlenuts.

“Do these shells look clear as glass to you?” Nanny demanded, and bade her crack the nuts and toast them and taste them. “Are these salty as the ocean and sweet as pure honey?”

They both knew they were not, but the princess remembered that scolding was part of the lesson and accepted it meekly. She was pleased to have failed twice, for that meant success would come tomorrow. Or did the first day, when she had returned empty-handed, not count as a failure, since she hadn’t really tried?

Enough!

The next day, the princess took both cheese and bread and boldly worked her way out of all sight of the hut. She would complete Nanny’s quest or she would find her own way home or she would perish in the woods. In any case, she was in the hands of happenstance, just like everybody else in the world.

She stopped to eat some cheese and bread by the side of a stream. A shift in the wind brought the most delicious scent she had ever smelled. Was this what she had been looking for? Did it actually exist?

A rustle behind her startled her, and she leaped to her feet and spun around.

“I’m sorry,” said the young man who stood not three yards away. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

She and the young man looked one another up and down. Each was relatively clean, neither was scratched, scarred, or calloused, and both wore clothes that were simple but obviously well made.

“Oh, dear,” they said in unison.

“I suppose you should come with me to my mother’s nanny’s hut,” said the young man.

“I suppose I should,” said the princess.

As he escorted her, he revealed (surprise!) that he was the prince of the kingdom over whose border the princess had unwittingly crossed. His mother had sent him to her old nanny to teach him industry and humility.

“Same,” said the princess.

Meanwhile, the sweet fragrance grew stronger until, when the prince opened the hut door, it was almost overwhelming.

“Ah!” said the old woman standing before the table, spreading pecans coated with crystals over oiled paper. “Here you are.”

She handed the princess a small transparent sack filled with nuts which had cooled.

“Take these to your Nanny,” she said. She handed one to the princess to try.

Naturally, it was was as salty as the sea and as sweet as pure honey.

“Lad,” she said to the prince, “make sure she gets there safely.”

“Do you know the way?” the princess asked the prince. “I don’t.”

“Follow the setting sun,” said the prince’s mother’s nanny. “It isn’t far. You’ve wandered a bit.”

So the princess and the prince returned to the princess’s mother’s nanny’s hut and Nanny was delighted with the result of the quest. She told the young people the simple route into the nearest village along with a letter to the hostler, instructing him to see that they got safely to the princess’s castle.

There, the king and queen welcomed the princess home and gave the prince the honor due his estate. The prince wrote his father, who wrote to the king to propose a marriage of political expedience, and the prince and princess agreed to it.

In after years, each amused the other on winter evenings before their chamber’s fire, wondering how many nannies there were in how many huts in how many parts of the forest so many realms held in common, and how many of them at any given time were engaged in teaching how many royal brats lessons in industry and humility.

Amused or not, they each kept their own nannies and huts in mind with eyes on their own children as they grew.

THE END

MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: Mrs. Wuest’s sugared pecans.

MA