The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales Read Online Free Page A

Ethelinda,” she said, lowering her voice to a roar.
    Harold grinned. “Pretty good guessing on my part, considering I’ve never met a fairy before.”
    â€œI am the one who made the jewels come out of Rosella’s mouth.”
    Harold almost jumped up and down, he was so excited. “That was you? Really? Uh, say, Ethel . . . tell me, what did my sweetie pie do to make you do it?”

    â€œH AROLD WAS IN THE COURTYARD PRACTICING HIS SWORDPLAY .”
    â€œMy name is Ethelinda ,” the fairy boomed. “I rewarded her after she gave me a drink of well water.”
    â€œI can do that. That’s a—”
    â€œI’m not thirsty. Do you know that you’re making poor Rosella miserable?”
    â€œShe’s not miserable. She’s a princess. She’s deliriously happy.”
    Ethelinda tried a different approach. “Why do you want jewels so much?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t want them?”
    â€œNot if it was making my betrothed unhappy.”
    â€œHow could she be unhappy? If I were in her shoes, I’d be delighted. She wouldn’t be a princess today if I hadn’t come along. She gets to wear a crown. She has nice gowns, Royal Ladies-in-Waiting. And me.”
    â€œYou have to stop making her talk.”
    â€œBut she has to talk. That’s what makes me happy.”
    Ethelinda raised her wand. Prince Harold was one second away from becoming a frog. Then she lowered it. Her self-confidence was gone. If she turned him into a frog, he might figure out a way to make it better than being a prince. She certainly didn’t want to reward him the way she’d rewarded Myrtle.
    She didn’t know what to do.
    The Royal Manservant who’d seen Rosella faint finally reached the courtyard. He ran to Harold.
    Ethelinda vanished.
    Myrtle’s party started at two o’clock. The school-teacher arrived first. His present was a slate and ten boxes of colored chalk.
    Myrtle opened one of the boxes. She wrote on the slate in green and orange letters, “Thank you. I’ll let you know when I run out of chalk.”
    The baker came next. His cake was so big that it barely fit through the cottage doorway. The icing was chocolate. The decorations were pink and blue whipped cream. The writing on top said, “Happy Fourteen-and-Six-Weeks Birthday, Myrtle! Please Keep Quiet!”
    The whole village came. Nobody wanted to take a chance on making Myrtle mad. The guests filled the cottage and the yard and the yards of the surrounding cottages. The widow thanked them all for coming. Myrtle collected her presents. She smiled when anyone handed her an especially big box.
    The food was the finest anybody could remember. Myrtle ate so many poached quail eggs and roasted chestnuts that she almost got sick. After everybody ate, she opened her presents. There were hundreds of them. Her favorites were:
    The framed sampler that read, “Speak to me only with thine eyes.”
    The bouquet of mums.
    The music box that played “Hush, Little Baby.”
    The silver quill pen, engraved with the motto “The pen is mightier than the voice.”
    The parrot that sat on Myrtle’s shoulder and repeated over and over, “Shut your trap. Shut your trap. Shut your trap.”
    The charm bracelet with the golden letters S, I, L, E, N, C, and E.
    After all the presents were opened, everybody sang “Happy Birthday.” Myrtle was so thrilled that she smiled and clapped her hands.
    Rosella was gravely ill, and Harold was seriously frightened. Even under mounds of swansdown quilts, she couldn’t stop shivering. She felt as if a vulture’s claws were scratching at her throat and a carpenter hammering at her temples.
    The Royal Physician was called in to examine her. When he was finished, he told Harold that she was very sick. He said her only hope of recovery lay in bed rest and complete silence. His fee for the visit was the jewels he