A Little Princess

by Cathy East Dubowski

  What if Sara was not happy? Captain Crewe might take her out of school—and put his money somewhere else! So Miss Minchin treated Sara like a guest.

  Sara might have been spoiled by all this. But she had too much sense.

  “Things happen to people by accident,” she told Ermengarde one day. “Good things and bad things. A lot of nice accidents happened to me. I just happen to have a rich father. I just happen to like books. Everyone has been kind to me. How could I not be nice?”

  Sara shook her head. “Maybe I am really mean,” she said. “But how will I ever know? What if nothing bad ever happens to me?”

  “Lavinia has no troubles,” said Ermengarde. “And look at her. She’s horrid.”

  It was a very smart thought for a girl who was supposed to be so stupid.

  5

  Lottie

  One day Sara heard screams. She ran to Miss Minchin’s sitting room. But the door was closed.

  “You bad child!” she heard Miss Minchin shout. Then the door flew open. Miss Minchin came out. Her glasses were crooked. Her hair was coming down. She looked as if she might bite!

  Then she saw Sara. She cleared her throat and smoothed her hair. “Oh, Sara,” she said.

  Sara peeked in the door. Miss Amelia was wrestling with Lottie, the youngest girl in school. She lay on the floor, kicking and screaming.

  “Perhaps I could help,” said Sara. “May I try?”

  “You are a clever child if you can!” Miss Minchin said sharply. Then she stopped herself. She must not be rude to Sara! She smiled her false, fishy smile. “But then, you are clever in everything, Sara. You are welcome to try.” She and Miss Amelia were glad to leave.

  Sara sat down beside Lottie. She didn’t say a word. She just waited.

  At first Lottie kept screaming. She often threw fits. Then grown-ups would pet her. Sometimes they would shout.

  But Sara just sat there as if she didn’t mind!

  “I—haven’t—got—a—mama!” Lottie wailed.

  “Neither have I,” said Sara.

  Lottie stopped crying. This was new. “Where is she?”

  “She went to heaven,” said Sara. “But sometimes she watches over me. I’m sure your mama watches you, too. Perhaps they are both in this room right now.”

  Lottie looked around. What if her mama was watching! She was not acting at all like the daughter of an angel!

  Then Sara told Lottie about heaven. “There are fields of flowers where the angels play. The streets are pure gold. And no one ever gets tired.”

  “I want to go there!” Lottie cried. “I haven’t got a mama at this school.”

  Sara took Lottie’s hand. “I will be your mama,” she said. “You will be my little girl. And Emily shall be your sister. Would you like that?”

  Lottie smiled. “Oh, yes!” she said. Her tears were forgotten.

  “Come, then,” said Sara. “Let’s wash your face. Then we’ll brush your hair.”

  That was what had started all the fuss. But Lottie did not even remember.

  She followed Mama Sara upstairs. Just like a good little angel.

  6

  Becky

  It was a cold gray day. But Sara Crewe was warm and happy. She had on a fur-lined coat. Her pretty hat kept out the wind.

  Sara stepped down from her carriage in front of the school. Then she looked around. She felt someone watching her.

  Steps led to the basement kitchen. A face peeked out through the railing. A smudgy face with wide eyes.

  Sara smiled. But the face disappeared.

  That night Sara sat before the fire, telling a story. The girls crowded into her room. They loved Sara’s stories. She didn’t just tell them. She became part of them. She made them seem real.

  A servant girl slipped into the room. The one with the smudgy face! She carried a heavy coal box. She added coal to the fire. She kept her head down. But Sara could tell she was listening.

  The little maid swept the hearth. Very, very slowly.

  Suddenly she dropped her cleaning brush. It clattered on the hearth.

  “That girl has been listening!” Lavinia cried.

  The maid ran from the room.

  “I knew she was listening,” Sara said angrily. “Why shouldn’t she?”

  “I don’t know about your mama,” said Lavinia. “But mine wouldn’t like it. Telling stories to servant girls!”

  “My mama wouldn’t care,” said Sara. “She knows that stories belong to everyone.”

  “I thought your mama was dead,” said Lavinia meanly. Then she laughed and dragged Jessie out the door.

  Later that night Mariette came in. She helped Sara undress for bed.

  “Who is that new servant girl?” asked Sara. “The one who makes the fires?”

  “Her name is Becky,” said Mariette. “She is the new kitchen maid. Poor girl. They make her do everything. Wash windows. Scrub floors. Clean the girls’ boots. Everyone shouts, ‘Becky, do this! Becky, do that!’ ”

  Mariette tucked Sara into bed and said good night. But Sara could not sleep. She could not stop thinking about Becky. She hoped she would see her again.

  A few weeks later she did.

  Sara had been to dancing class. She had on a pink dress. She had roses pinned in her dark hair. She twirled into her room—and stopped.

  There sat Becky, the little kitchen maid. She had fallen asleep before the fire. There were coal smudges on her tired face. Her cap had fallen sideways.

  Then the fire popped. Becky jumped awake. “Oh, miss!” she cried. “I’m ever so sorry.”

  Sara laughed gently. “You couldn’t help it.”

  “Ain’t you mad?” Becky asked. “Ain’t you going to tell Miss Minchin?”

  “Of course not,” said Sara.

  Becky still looked frightened. So Sara sat down beside her. “Don’t be afraid, Becky. We are the same, you and I. I am only a little girl. Just like you.”

  Becky didn’t know about that! But she smiled a little.

  “Would you like some cake?” asked Sara.

  Becky could hardly believe it. She was sitting before a warm fire. She was talking with a young lady. And the young lady had offered her cake! She must be dreaming. But she gladly took the cake.

  “Once I seen a real princess,” said Becky shyly. “She was dressed all in pink. She looked just like you!”

  “How lovely to be a princess,” said Sara. “I wonder what it feels like.” She sat up straight in her chair. “I know. I shall begin to pretend I am one.”

  Sara smiled to herself. What might a princess do for Becky?

  “Did you like my stories?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, miss,” said Becky.

  “Then try to do my room at the same time each day,” said Sara. “I’ll be here and tell you part of a story.”

  “Oh, miss!” said Becky. “I wouldn’t care how heavy the coal box is. Or what the cook does to me. Not if I had your story to think on each day.”

  Soon Becky hurried back to work. She had an extra piece of cake in her pocket. And a smile on her smudgy face.

  7

  Diamond Mines

  India was too far from London for Captain Crewe to visit Sara. But he wrote to her often.

  One day Sara got a letter. She ran to her room to read it. “Oh, Emily,” she said. “It’s good news.”

  Her father had met an old school friend. The man owned land where diamonds had been found. He was going to hire workers to build mines and dig for diamonds.

  It was such a sure thing. Captain Crewe gave most of his money to his friend. Now they were partners.

  “We shall be rich beyond our wildest dreams,” wrote Captain Crewe. “What do you think of that, Little Soldier?”

  The girls could talk of nothing else.

  “What a silly story,” Lavinia muttered.

  “I think you hate Sara,” said Jessie.

  “No, I don’t,” said Lavinia. “I just don’t believe in mines full of diamonds. Sara is m
aking it all up.”

  “Do you know what I heard?” Jessie whispered. “Sara likes to pretend she is a princess. She plays it all the time. Even in school.”

  “Really?” said Lavinia. She smiled thoughtfully.

  That afternoon Sara came into the schoolroom. Lavinia was teasing Lottie. Lottie was crying.

  Sara ran to stand between them. “Stop it, Lavinia!”

  “Oh, forgive me, Your Royal Highness,” said Lavinia. She bowed low. “I suppose I must obey. You are a princess. Isn’t that right? Princess Sara? Our school will be all the fashion now.”

  Sara’s face burned. Her pretending was special. How awful to hear Lavinia make fun of it—in front of the whole school!

  Sara felt like shouting. She felt like pulling Lavinia’s hair.

  But—princesses did not fly into rages.

  “It’s true,” Sara said. “Sometimes I do pretend I’m a princess. And I always try to act like one.”

  Lavinia had tried to make Sara look bad in front of the young ladies.

  But the young ladies loved stories about princesses. They stared at Sara as if she were a real princess!

  Now everyone called her Princess Sara.

  Lavinia and Jessie said it to make fun of her.

  But most girls said it with love. In their eyes Sara was truly a princess.

  8

  A Perfect Party

  Sara’s birthday was coming. Her father wrote that he was planning for her party—even though he could not come.

  He had written Miss Minchin, too, he said. He had told her to order all kinds of presents. Even a new doll from Paris. Would that be a good present?

  Sara sighed. Papa was so far away. He could not see her growing up. She no longer played with dolls much. There was Emily, of course. But that was different.

  She wrote back: “I am getting very old, Papa. This will be my last doll. No one could take Emily’s place. But I shall respect the Last Doll very much.”

  Far away in India, Captain Crewe sat in his study. He was ill with fever. His desk was piled high with bills. He was not very good at business. And he was worried about the diamond mines.…

  Then he opened Sara’s letter. He read it through. And he laughed as he had not laughed in weeks.

  “What fun she is!” he said. “How I wish she were with me right now!”

  Sara woke up. It was her birthday at last. She ran into her sitting room. A small present lay on the table.

  Sara tore it open. It was a red flannel pincushion. Black pins spelled out: “Menny hapy reterns.”

  The flannel was old and dirty. The spelling was not quite right. But Sara was delighted. She knew it was from Becky.

  Just then Becky peeped in the door. “Do you like it, Miss Sara?” she asked.

  “I love it!” Sara replied.

  Becky grinned. “I sat up nights and made it. I knew you could pretend it was satin with diamond pins.”

  Sara hugged her friend. “Oh, Becky. I do love you.”

  “Thank you, miss,” said Becky shyly. “But, golly! It ain’t worth all that. The flannel ain’t even new.”

  At last it was time for the party. Sara wore a new silk dress. Mariette put flowers in her hair.

  Sara was so excited! She wanted to run downstairs. But Miss Minchin said no. They marched into the schoolroom, like a royal parade. First Sara. Next Miss Minchin. Then the servants with all her presents. Becky tagged along at the end.

  “Silence, young ladies,” Miss Minchin said. Then she noticed Becky.

  “Becky!” she cried. “It is not your place to look at the young ladies. Leave at once.”

  “Please, Miss Minchin,” said Sara. “May Becky stay to see the presents?”

  Miss Minchin did not like this idea one bit. But she must keep rich little Sara happy.

  “Oh, very well, Sara,” said Miss Minchin. “But only because it’s your birthday. Becky! Stand over there. Not too near my young ladies.”

  Becky smiled with delight. She didn’t care where she stood. As long as she could stay!

  Miss Minchin cleared her throat. “Now. Sara’s birthdays are very important. When she is grown—”

  “Excuse me, sister,” Miss Amelia interrupted. “Captain Crewe’s lawyer, Mr. Barrow, is here to see you.”

  “Oh,” said Miss Minchin. “Well. Enjoy your party, young ladies.”

  As soon as Miss Minchin left, the “young ladies” sprang from their chairs. “Open your presents, Sara!” they cried.

  Sara opened the first box. The girls groaned. “Books!”

  “Your father is as bad as mine,” said Ermengarde.

  Sara laughed. “I like them.”

  Then she reached for the biggest box. Slowly she opened it. The girls pressed closer around her.

  It was the Last Doll. The one her father had ordered. She was beautiful!

  “She is almost as big as Lottie!” one girl gasped.

  Sara opened the doll’s trunk. One by one she lifted out her things. There were ball dresses and tea gowns. Hats and fans. A necklace and a crown that looked as if they were real diamonds!

  Even Lavinia and Jessie pushed to see. They forgot they were too old for dolls!

  Sara tried a black velvet hat on the doll. “Suppose she understands us,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “Suppose she likes being admired.”

  “Oh, Sara,” Lavinia said crossly. “You are always supposing things.”

  “I know,” said Sara. “It’s fun.”

  “But it’s easy for you,” Lavinia said. “You have everything. What if you were poor?”

  Sara looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I would have to suppose all the time,” she replied. “But it might not be so easy.”

  Just then Miss Amelia came in. “Come along, girls,” she said. “The birthday cake is ready.”

  “Cake!” the girls squealed. Laughing, they tugged Princess Sara to her feast.

  At last the room was quiet. Everyone was gone. Everyone but Becky. She crept out from the corner. She’d never seen such presents. She just had to have one more look!

  She touched the Last Doll’s hair. She picked up the glittering crown. “Blimey …” she whispered.

  Suddenly she heard someone coming. What if they thought Becky was stealing!

  Becky ducked beneath the table. She pulled the tablecloth down just as the doorknob turned.

  9

  Terrible News

  Becky trembled beneath the table as the door opened.

  Miss Minchin came in with Mr. Barrow. “Please be seated,” she said.

  But the lawyer did not sit. He frowned at the Last Doll. “What a waste of money!” he said.

  “Captain Crewe is a rich man,” Miss Minchin said smugly. “Why, his diamond mines—”

  “There are no diamond mines.”

  Miss Minchin blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Barrow. “The late Captain Crewe—”

  “The late Captain Crewe! What do you mean?” Miss Minchin demanded.

  “He’s dead,” Mr. Barrow said flatly. “He died of jungle fever. So they say. But I think his money troubles were the death of him.”

  Miss Minchin’s hands began to tremble. “What money troubles?” she whispered.

  “Captain Crewe was very foolish,” said Mr. Barrow. “He put all his money into his friend’s mines. But they never found any diamonds. His friend ran away.

  “Captain Crewe was sick when the news came. The shock was too great for him. He died, calling for his little girl. And he didn’t leave her a single penny.”

  Miss Minchin stumbled into a chair. “Wh-what are you saying?” she said. “That Sara will have no fortune?”

  “None,” said Mr. Barrow. “And she hasn’t a relative in the world. I am afraid she is your problem now.”

  Miss Minchin’s cold, fishy mouth hung open. She stared into space. It just couldn’t be true!

  Suddenly girlish laughter broke into her thoughts. She remembered the party. The p
arty with all the food. And all those expensive presents!

  Miss Minchin had paid for them out of her own pocket. She had put them on Captain Crewe’s bill. Now that bill would never be paid!

  “I have been robbed!” she cried. “I shall turn her out into the streets!”

  Mr. Barrow went to the door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. “It would make your school look bad. Think what people will say: ‘Miss Minchin turned a poor orphan out into the streets.’ ”

  “But what can I do?” Miss Minchin cried.

  “Keep her and make use of her,” said Mr. Barrow. “Make her work off the bills.”

  Mr. Barrow opened the door and bumped into Miss Amelia. She had been trying to listen at the keyhole! “Good day!” he said, and stalked off with a frown.

  “Amelia,” Miss Minchin said. Her voice sounded odd, as if someone were squeezing her throat. “Does Sara have a plain black dress?”

  “Yes, an old velvet one,” said Miss Amelia. “But it is worn and way too small for her. I don’t think—”

  “Amelia!” Miss Minchin glared at her sister. “Tell Sara to take off that silly party dress. Tell her to put on the black one. Then bring her to me.”

  “What in the world has happened?” asked Miss Amelia. She was trembling now. She was always afraid of her sister. But she had never seen her look like this. She looked like a teakettle about to boil over!

  “Captain Crewe is dead,” said Miss Minchin. “And he didn’t leave Sara a penny.”

  “Oh, no!” said Miss Amelia.

  “Don’t stand there like a goose!” snapped Miss Minchin. “Go tell her.”

  “But why should I—”

  “Now!”

  Miss Amelia scurried out like a mouse.

  Miss Minchin glared at the presents on the table. “Princess Sara indeed!”

  Then she heard a sob. It came from under the table.

  “Who’s there?” she cried. “Come out this instant!”

  Becky crawled out, sobbing.

  “How dare you!” said Miss Minchin.

  “Oh, please, mum,” Becky prattled through her tears. “What will Miss Sara do now? May I wait on her now that she’s poor?”