by Lou Kuenzler
“Thank you, Papa,” she said.
Now that she had learned to curtsy properly, she wouldn’t make a fool of herself at the tournament, and he would be even more proud of her.
At that moment, a king and queen—who must have been Visalotta’s parents, judging by their enormous diamond crowns—appeared in the entrance to the courtyard. Precious’s parents were just behind them.
“I say, Queen Greya, is that your daughter?” boomed Visalotta’s father over his shoulder. “She’s dressed as the Golden Princess.”
“Oh yes.” Precious’s mother, Queen Greya, bustled into the courtyard. “Precious is always chosen for the most important honors,” she said.
But Aunt Greya’s face fell when she saw that it was not her daughter in the golden gown.
“Who are you?” she roared. “And why are you wearing that dress?”
It was obvious Precious hadn’t told her parents that she wasn’t going to be the Golden Princess anymore.
Grace gulped. Did she really look so different that even her aunt didn’t recognize her?
“It’s me,” she said, curtsying low to the ground without a single wobble. “Your niece Grace.”
“Grace?” Queen Greya’s eyes opened wide with shock. “I didn’t recognize you looking so…so…”
“Clean?” said Grace’s uncle Herbert.
“You do know this princess, then?” Visalotta’s mother smiled.
“She’s just my sister’s girl,” mumbled Queen Greya. “She’s nobody.”
Grace felt a flash of anger. I am not a nobody, she thought. I am a proper princess now—a Golden Princess. For today, at least.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, curtsying to Visalotta’s mother. “My name is Princess Grace.”
Her father stepped forward and bowed too.
“Grace is my fine young daughter,” he said proudly.
Grace flung her arms around him. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered. “But I won’t let you down, Papa, I promise.”
She grabbed the train on her dress, hitched it over her arm, and dashed inside like a charging bull.
Grace flew into the waiting room outside the Ceremonial Hall with only a second to spare.
Just a moment later, Fairy Godmother Flint swept in.
Grace smiled with relief at Izumi and Scarlet. She was still panting for breath and felt sure her face was bright red from running with the heavy train of the dress scooped up in her arms.
“I shouldn’t need to remind you all, this is a very important day for Tall Towers,” said Flintheart, scanning the room. “Please take hold of the items you will carry in the parade.”
The other princesses each lifted a brightly colored flag on a golden pole. There were yellow flags, orange flags, green and blue ones. They were decorated with dragons, leaping stags, swans, or unicorns. Each flag represented a different knight taking part in the tournament.
Grace did not have a flag to hold, as it was the Golden Princess’s job to carry the trophy that would be awarded to the winning knight. She caught her breath as she lifted the heavy gold cup into the air.
This was it. Her big day had arrived. She had been so busy getting dressed and seeing Pip and her father that she hadn’t really had time to feel nervous yet. But now, even though she knew she could curtsy, tiny butterflies were starting to swirl in her stomach.
What was is it Scarlet had said last night?
Her friend’s soft, worried voice rang clearly in Grace’s head: “Just think of all those people who’ll be watching you.”
Grace’s palms were starting to sweat, but she didn’t dare to wipe them on the golden dress. The cup slipped a little in her grasp and clanged against the edge of a table.
“Imagine if someone in our class made a mess of the parade,” squealed the twins. “Wouldn’t that be awful?”
“Who would do a thing like that?” asked Precious nastily. “If we don’t make a good impression, it will bring shame on the whole school, won’t it, Fairy Godmother?”
Grace knew they meant her.
“It most certainly will.” Flintheart was scowling at Grace too. “I will not tolerate clumsiness or mistakes today.”
She gestured to the large wooden doors that led from the little waiting room to the grand Ceremonial Hall. “Every parent in the school—royal kings and queens of great importance—are waiting for us to enter through those doors and lead them down to Silver Meadow, where they will be seated to watch the joust,” she said. “Our procession will be calm and orderly. We will walk along the red carpet down the middle of the hall as if we are floating. As we pass, we will curtsy to the waiting kings and queens, who will follow us down the steps to the garden.”
“Steps?” Grace grabbed Scarlet’s arm. “I had completely forgotten there would be steps.”
“There are about twenty, I think,” murmured Scarlet, looking worried.
“Twenty-four,” whispered Izumi. “I counted them one day when I was sketching.”
“Twenty-four?” Grace forgot to whisper. The thought of trying to glide gracefully down twenty-four steps without tripping over the golden train was too much.
“I am sorry some students feel they are so special and important that they don’t need to listen to instructions,” said Flintheart, stepping toward Grace. “Has wearing the golden dress gone to your head, Young Majesty? It is not too late to change again and get someone else to wear the dress, you know.”
“Pick me!” squealed Trinket.
“No, me!” squawked Truffle.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace. “I really am listening.” The trophy she was holding weighed as much as the full buckets of water she carried across the yard for Billy. It would make walking down the steps even harder. But she didn’t dare complain.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” continued Flintheart, “you will walk slowly, calmly, and gracefully down the steps, and then lead the way to Silver Meadow. Princess Grace will be in front with the trophy. The rest of you, carrying the flags, will be behind. I want to see shoulders back and necks straight, as if a book was balanced on your heads.”
Grace thought of how many times Princess Manners for Beginners had crashed to the floor in deportment class.
“Once the parents are seated in the stands around the meadow, the tournament will begin,” said Fairy Godmother Flint. “All that will remain then is for Princess Grace to curtsy to the winning knight and present the trophy when the joust is over.”
“I still don’t understand why she gets to be the Golden Princess,” huffed Precious. “Lady DuLac only asked Grace because she felt sorry for her…because Grace is so bad at everything.”
There was a gasp from some of the other princesses. Even for Precious, this was cruel.
Grace felt as if she had been slapped. Her legs wobbled under the golden dress. But she wasn’t going to let Precious ruin this special day. Not when Pip and her father had looked so proud.
“Places, please,” said Fairy Godmother Flint.
Grace threw back her shoulders and marched boldly to the front of the line. She could hear the murmur of voices as the kings and queens gathered in the Ceremonial Hall.
Precious and Visalotta were just behind her. Then Scarlet and Izumi. Then Rosa-mond and Juliette, Latisha and Martine, followed by Christabel and Emmeline. Then, last of all, the twins, who were furious to be at the very back of the line.
“It is simply not fair,” Grace heard them moan.
A trumpet sounded. The doors were flung open. Grace stepped forward.
The Ceremonial Hall was crowded with kings and queens from every kingdom. They all fell silent as Grace led the parade of First Years through the doors.
“Shoulders back, head straight,” Grace told herself.
She turned first to the left and then to the right, curtsying perfectly as she made her way along the red carpet with her train flowing behind her. The other princesses followed with their flags. They walked on either side of the long train as i
f it was a golden river flowing between them.
Although the hall was packed with royal visitors, Grace could see that many more were waiting outside, lining the steep stairs to the garden.
She spotted Lady DuLac standing by the open doors with beautiful, raven-haired Princess Ebony, who was head girl. Beyond them, Grace could see the huge figure of her father and tiny Pip on the top step. Precious’s parents stood opposite them.
“One foot in front of the other, that’s all it takes,” Grace whispered under her breath.
Then she was there, standing on the top of the steps, right in front of Lady DuLac.
“Only twenty-four little steps,” she told herself. “Just do not stumble.”
Grace stepped down the first two stairs perfectly.
“That’s it,” she said inside her head. “Easy.”
She cleared two more steps. It was going to be all right.
“If I do not stumble, I will not trip. If I do not trip, I will not fall…,” she whispered.
“I thought you’d be flat on your bum by now,” hissed Precious in her ear.
Grace wobbled. She felt something roll underneath her shoe. Her foot slipped forward as if she was suddenly on a pair of roller skates.
“Ahhhh…,” Grace heard herself scream.
The huge gold trophy flew through the air.
The world tipped on its head.
Grace gasped. She was tumbling, rolling, falling helplessly down the steps.
“No!” she cried.
The great golden dress ballooned like a parachute behind her.
Splat!
Grace landed at the bottom of the steps. The long gold dress flew up over her head.
The crowd gasped. Some giggled.
“Look! You can see her knickers,” squealed the twins.
Grace desperately pulled the dress down. Her eyes were stinging with shame. She couldn’t bear to look up.
“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” she said, trying to smooth the golden dress flat over her knees.
Her cheeks were burning, and her hands shook.
At last, she raised her head.
Everyone was staring at her, their mouths open wide.
She saw her father on the steps above. His face was as red as a raspberry.
Pip had buried herself in his cloak.
“You tripped over your own big feet, that’s all,” sneered Precious. “What a disgrace.” She had a little, secret grin on her face as if this was what she had been waiting for all along.
Scarlet and Izumi had turned away. Their heads were bowed down, almost as if they were searching for something under their feet.
Grace felt sure they were too embarrassed to look her in the eye.
Fairy Godmother Flint appeared on the steps behind them, her face as dark as thunder.
But it was Lady DuLac who spoke. Her voice was quiet and calm. “Are you hurt, my dear?”
Grace shook her head.
“Good. That’s the main thing,” said the headmistress gently. “Nothing else matters.”
Grace felt her lip wobble. She had wanted so much to impress Lady DuLac. Now the headmistress’s kindness was far worse than being shouted at.
She wanted to explain how it had felt as if the ground had suddenly started to roll beneath her feet. She wanted to turn back time so that she could be standing at the top of the steps again, a perfect princess in a golden dress. But she knew it was hopeless. Everything was ruined.
Grace struggled to her feet, hitched up the dress, and ran. Tears were streaming down her face as she hurtled around the corner of the Ceremonial Hall.
“Why am I always so clumsy?” she wailed.
She stumbled on toward the stables, desperate to bury her face in Billy’s mane.
But as she turned the corner, she saw that the field where the unicorns normally grazed was filled with tents. The knights were getting ready for the tournament. Horses were tethered, saddles were being polished, and suits of armor hung like washing from the trees.
The knights were so busy with their preparations that they didn’t notice the sobbing princess as she blundered between the tents.
And Grace did not notice the sharp lance lying in her path.
The pointed end of the weapon caught in the long fabric of her dress.
Rrrrip! Grace was still running when she heard the sound.
She looked around and saw with horror that the bottom half of the dress and the shimmering train had been torn clean off.
“Oh no!” Now, instead of a golden ball gown, it looked as if she was wearing a tattered smock. Grace tugged hard, trying to pull the shredded fabric down below her knees as she staggered on across the field. Tears were streaming down her face.
She could never go back to the tournament like this. It was bad enough she had made a mess of the whole parade. Everyone had seen her polka-dot knickers—which still weren’t the regulation white ones. Now the golden dress was ruined too.
Grace sped around the side of a bright, striped tent.
The stable was in sight and—
Bam!
She collided with a knight in a full suit of armor.
“Ouch.”
Grace leapt up and down clutching her foot.
But the knight came off far worse.
“Wh-whoa,” he cried as he toppled over backward and tumbled down the slope.
Dong!
He landed against the high wall in front of the stables, and his armor clanged like a ringing bell.
“I’m so sorry.” Grace rushed down the slope after him. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me help you—”
“Go away. You’re dangerous. Don’t come anywhere near me,” a dazed voice echoed from inside the helmet.
The knight clattered to his feet, swaying dizzily from side to side. “Just stay over there and—whoa.” He tried to steady himself but bashed into the wall again.
Clang!
Now the knight staggered sideways and fell into a ditch.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” said Grace, clambering down into the muddy ditch beside him. “You have to stay still until your head stops spinning.”
“But I can’t stay still, can I? I’m supposed to joust in a minute,” said the knight, pulling off his helmet.
Grace saw that he was just a boy. Not much older than her. He had pale skin and a shock of familiar flame-red hair.
“Goodness. You’re not Wilbur, are you?” she gasped.
“Yes, I am.” His eyes were wide and frightened. “How did you know?” He looked her up and down. The ragged dress was dripping with mud. “Are you some sort of witch who can read minds or something?”
Grace laughed. “I’m Princess Grace. I’m best friends with your cousin Scarlet. I recognized you by your hair.”
“Oh. That’s good. I thought you might want to cast a spell on me.” A look of relief flooded over Wilbur’s face. Grace wanted to laugh. He seemed just as nervous as Scarlet. “Of course, I knew you weren’t a witch really.” He blushed. “I think I’m a bit confused. I must have gotten quite a bang rolling around inside that suit of armor.”
“And it was all my fault,” groaned Grace. “I should have been looking where I was going. Then I frightened you.” Her bad day had just gotten worse. On top of everything else, she had nearly knocked out Scarlet’s cousin.
“I should have been looking too,” he said kindly. “The truth is I was composing a tune in my head.”
“A tune?” Grace asked.
“Yes. It went something like this.” Wilbur picked up his helmet as if it was a drum and began to beat out a rhythm with his fingers.
Dum de-de dum…
But suddenly a terrible voice boomed across the field. “WILBUR! WHERE ARE YOU?”
Grace and Wilbur were still hidden in the deep ditch, so no one could see them. But Wilbur’s fingers stopped drumming and his face turned as white as lace.
“Oh no. That’s Squire Bellows. It must be time to
mount Thunder already.”
“Thunder?” asked Grace.
“He’s my horse. A terrifying great brute.” Wilbur shivered. “But at least he knows what he’s doing.”
“Don’t you like jousting?” asked Grace.
“No. I always fall off in the first two minutes, and I’m terrified of horses.” Wilbur tried to get to his feet but quietly sank down again. Grace couldn’t tell if he was still dizzy or just scared.
“I want to be a musician, really,” he said. “I made a deal with my father that I would train with Squire Bellows and learn to be a knight for a whole year. After that, my father promised I could go to the Royal Musicians Academy and study there. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”
“How wonderful,” said Grace. “When is your year with Squire Bellows over?”
“Yesterday,” sighed Wilbur. “That’s the whole problem. He hasn’t realized the time is up, and I’m too scared to tell him.”
“WILBUR! WHERE ARE YOU?” The squire’s voice blasted across the field again.
“Oh no.” Wilbur struggled to his feet.
“You can’t go anywhere,” said Grace as he wobbled from side to side. “You’re still dizzy. You certainly can’t ride a horse.”
“I have to,” said Wilbur. “It’s a matter of honor.” He buried his head in his hands. “Honor is very important to knights, you know. Squire Bellows has worked so hard getting Thunder ready for this tournament, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I should have left yesterday.”
“What will you do?” asked Grace.
“I’ll ride in the joust, and then as soon as it’s over, I can set off for the Royal Musicians Academy.”
“But you can’t ride,” said Grace. Wilbur was swaying dangerously. “You need to see a doctor.”
“Do you really think so?” Wilbur’s eyes grew wide with panic. “I do feel very strange.” He slumped down on the grass and buried his head in his hands again. “If I don’t ride, the joust might have to be canceled,” he groaned. “There won’t be enough knights to take part. I’ll let everyone down.”
No matter how scared or dizzy he felt, Grace knew Wilbur was determined to do the right thing. But she could clearly see he was terrified. His voice was shaking, and his pale cheeks had turned sickly green.